Officer Down
by moms5thchild
Summary: Someone is splitting up some of the best partnerships in the NYPD, some of them permanently.
1. Chapter 1

This is a world where all the police series placed in New York City can and do meet. I can't imagine that there would be a different One Police Plaza, CSI units and court systems in all the different shows, so anyone may show up here.

This is a Blind Justice, Law and Order SVU and CI and CSI:New York crossover

**Officer Down**

Chapter One: _Friday Night at Bang Bangs_

Friday night at Bang Bangs had become a loose kind of tradition in the NYPDof Manhattan. It took an ex cop with a particularly bad sense of humour to name his bar Bang Bangs, yet it had become one of the most popular cop hang out in the city. A not so discreet police scanner behind the bar let the owner, Pete Maguire; keep his fingers on the pulse of the city.It was one of the things he refused to let go of. The insignia of every precinct house in the five boroughs decorated its walls and below each crest the names of each cop shot in the line of duty. Some names had KIA after them, some had RET and some had FFD. Killed in action, retired or fit for duty. Jim Dunbar was one of the few names that had his designation changed from RET to FFD.

That night five tables had been pulled together. It was Detective Connie Suarez's tenth wedding anniversary and her colleagues from the 8th Precinct and friends from her days in the academy were toasting the happy couple.

"How did you manage to snag a doctor?" Karen Betancourt giggled as she finished her third beer.

"Easy, I was conscious when the ambulance pulled into St. Clair's. I saw this gorgeous ER doc, I decided to entrap him." Connie said as she pulled her husband, Dr. John Padgett, close. "Not bad for an Anglo, is he?"

"That didn't get your name is on the wall, did it?" Jim Dunbar called out from the end of the table.

"Nyah, I was hit by a get away car, no boom-boom sticks for me," she laughed. "It was bad enough being the victim of a Chevy Nova."

"You're giving away your age, Connie." Tom Selway and Dave Cotton said almost in unison.

"No she's not and I don't care," Padgett said as he pulled Connie up into his arms. "I am having a dance with my wife no matter how old she is."

"No dance floor here, John," Connie whispered as she snuggled into his arms.

"I don't care," John replied as he maneuvered Connie over to the juke box and swayed in time with Sinatra's 'Come Fly with Me.'

"I've got to fly away myself," Karen said as she pushed away her beer glass. "Actually I'm already flying: you better call me a cab."

"Karen, you're a cab," Jim said straight faced and sober looking while Tom laughed. "Okay, Pete will get you a cab, just crawl on over to the bar."

Karen gave the table the thumb's up and headed towards the bar.

"Mike, you know two of the names on that wall." Dave Cotton turned to his friend, Mike Logan.

"You are a pain in the ass, you know that," Mike said as he shook his head.

"What's the matter?" Jim swung his head towards the tall Irish cop sitting with Dave Cotton, Ed Green and Danny Messer.

"Over there, under the 27th crest is Max Creevey and Phil Cerreta; both were my partners and Max is a KIA." He turned his head, "it's a very unlucky precinct, eh, Ed."

"No kidding, my name is at the bottom of that list. I can't believe the amount of names we got and so many other precincts don't have any names at all."

"None under the 8th," Dave chimed in.

"I thought you were in the 8th, Dunbar." Bobby Goren said as he turned to the blind man.

"I was in the 77th when I got hit." Jim said as he ran his handsup and downhis beer. "I got another dead soldier here, who up for another round," his credit card was taking a beating tonight.

"Let's hope nobody comes in here with an AK 47 or just about every Manhattan precinct would get names under their crest." Tom said to no one in particular.

"Don't ever say that!" Connie swatted him as she came back to retrieve her coat. "That is just asking for trouble."

* * *

Mack Taylor and Stella Bonasera were packing up their evidence kits just about that time. Stella had meant to be at Connie's party tonight and she was going to drag Mack there no matter what argument he made. Then the call came in, body parts from more than one victim but there was no telling how many vics there were and whether any could still be alive.

"You know, Stella," Mack said as he examines two right index fingers before putting them on ice, "I think these have been surgically removed a long time ago."

Stella walked over and calmly reached for the gruesome artifacts. "I think you're right. There are no jagged edges on the flesh and it looks like very clean cuts to the bones. That's either surgery or pruning shears. Is that formaldehyde I smell?"

"We'll know better when they get examined at the lab, but I think these fingers and the other assorted pieces are the remains of gross anatomy study cadavers." Mack replied as he packed the fingersonice. "I want to get started as soon as we get back."

"No," Stella put her hands on her hips, "we are supposed to be meeting Connie and John at Bang Bangs. I went through the academy with her and she wants to introduce you to some pretty young thing called Karen."

"I don't want any pretty, young thing. I want to get the paperwork started."

"I want you to have a pretty, young thing… then maybe I can rest easy knowing that you will have a life again." They made it out of the alley and to the SUV they were using to transport the evidence downtown. "I want to know you are having fun."

"What's more fun than amputated index fingers," Mack started to say when the gunshot exploded almost in his ear. He ducked, drawing his piece and searching the rooftops looking for the shooter; a sniper. He heard the other officers do the same; then he heard a ragged breathe behind him.

"Stella?" Mack wheeled around to see his partner slumped against the vehicle, blood oozing between the fingers she pressed against her left shoulder.

"Stella," he screamed as he threw himself at his partner, one hand grabbing for her as the other reached for his walkie-talkie. "We need a bus at the postal sorting station behind Madison Square Gardens, Officer down, I repeat, Officer Down

* * *

Pete Maguire heard those urgent, dreaded words. "Officer Down." He cut the power to the juke box and sent the volume on the scanner to max. The bar went silent; not a foot moved, not a glass clinked, not a word was spoken as the report bounced around Bang Bangs and the officers there held their collective breaths in an attempt to hear tevery word.

"Officer down! We need a bus at the postal sorting station behind Madison Square Gardens, Officer down, I repeat, Officer down."

"Identify yourself," the dispatcher voice was monotone, "and the situation."

"This is Mack Taylor of CSU, shots were fired and Detective Bonasera has been hit. I need an ambulance NOW!"

As if a starting pistol had been shot, half the occupants of the bar rose to their feet.

"An ambulance has been dispatched. Is the suspect still active?" the flat voice of the dispatcher sounded over the scanner.

"At this point in time, it is impossible to tell. Where is that damn bus?"

The sound of a siren could now be heard over the scanner, the ambulance was almost there. Along with the tinny sound of sirens over a bad speaker came the sounds of telephone ring tones. One, two, three; the beeps, bells and buzzes of cell phones sounded in the bar.

"Text message," Mike Logan said as he pulled out his cell.

"Me, too," Bobby Goren added as he opened his phone.

Jim Dunbar felt his cell buzz in his pocket. Jim fumbled for it, flipped it open and listened to the mechanical voice drone, "text message… this is number one and the fun has just begun. Next is number two but I won't tell you who."

"Jesus, that's what mine says," Logan said as he compared Dunbar's phone screen to his.

"We've all got the same message," Jim head swept from the sound of Logan voice to the sound of Goren's. "This is very bad."


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry I took so long, but I was trying to decide who would actually be in the story and who would be just have cameo appearence. I hope I've done okay

**Officer Down**

**When You Least Expect It...**

Toss… bounce… snatch

Toss… bounce… snatch

The oddest things could be so damned relaxing. Once this game needed Jim's full concentration, now it was almost a Zen exercise in timing and precision allowing his mind to unravel the knottier problems of the day.

_This is number one and the fun has just begun. _

_Next is number two but I won't tell you who._

His mind always added 'roll me over, lay me down and do it again' at the end of each line. It was a variation on a smutty little song his father used to sing when he was in his happy drunk stage. In the Gulf, the soldiers had added other, more up to date profanities to this little ditty and now gunfire had added an even more profane meaning to these words. At least no one was dead… yet.

"Jimmy, what are you doing home?" Christie's voice jarred him so badly Jim missed the ball. He shifted as Christie snuggled close to him in his armchair, touching the dropped ball to the back of his hand.

"The party broke up early," he replied. "What about you, I thought the California clients would party 'til at least one a. m.?"

"I snuck away," she fidgeted and slipped out of her jacket. "The clients are going on and on about their great idea. You know that TV show 'The Blues of New York'?"

Jim gave a tired chuckle, "yeah, Marty says it's the best comedy on the tube, because it sure ain't 'pulled from today's headlines'."

"That's why I had to be there. Some network bigwigs want to do a fashion shoot with the actors and they want to use real NYPD officers on the 'mean streets of New York' as a gimmick. I just had to get out of there."

"You said no, didn't you?"

"I hope they give it up as a bad idea, but I wanted to talk to you and the guys first; because I bet they see me as the fast track to the PD." Christie leaned into Jim and rested her head on his shoulder. "I was about to head to Bang Bangs but your cell phone was off."

"I don't have it at the moment, its evidence."

"Evidence?" Christie sat bold upright, "Jimmy, what happened?"

Jim ran his hand through hair and sighed, "Connie's friend from CSU was shot tonight. That kind of thing puts a damper on a party."

"Is he all right?"

"_She_ is doing okay. She got hit in the shoulder. There's going to have to be a lot of reconstruction there, but it will heal fine. I'm betting Stella Bonasera is gonna to have to wear a brace for a long while, but she's a CSU and they'll work around it."

"But why take your cell phone?" Christie still needed to know the truth.

"After the news came over the police scanner at Bang Bangs a bunch of officers got this weird text message. Made it sound like this was the beginning of something really hinky. So when we reported the text to One PP, they took our cell phones. I haven't heard a thing about what's happening yet." Jim turned to face his wife, "so I decided I'd come home and wait for news or you before I went to bed." He smiled as he gently traced the curve of Christie's jaw. "I'm glad you got here first… I am so damn tired."

Christie slapped Jim's shoulder, but her soft laugh told him he wasn't in trouble and, together, they headed for bed.

* * *

Jim held Christie close to his chest, reveling in the feel of her skin and the smell of her hair when the phone rang. 

"Don't answer it," she whispered, "its five a. m."

"Then it must be important," he said, but Christie started to nuzzle his neck and nip the soft flesh there. "If you give me a hickey I'll never live it down." Jim laughed softly and then reached over to the answer the phone.

"Detective Dunbar, this is Captain Jim Deakins of the Major Case Squad. I'm sorry about the time, but I wanted to contact every officer who received that text message last night. It is imperative that you and your partner come to One Police Plaza at 9:00 a. m. for a complete debriefing."

"I'll be there," Jim yawned.

"It should only be an hour or two, don't get in a sweat. You'll get your phone back and be on your way no later than noon. Good night, detective," Deakins hung up the phone.

Jim slipped the phone back in its cradle, "I have to go to One PP this morningbecause of that text message. Want to meet me afterwards for lunch?"

"Will you let me play with your gun," her voice tickled his ear as she reached for his 'weapon'.

"Absolutely," he grinned.

* * *

Dunbar was crossing the lobby of One Police Plaza heading to the elevators. The crowds were moving quickly through the large, open space and Jim was hoping he was staying in a straight line as he traveled. If he veered to the left or right he could become as lost here as easily as a place he had never been before. 

"Hey, Dunbar," Mike Logan's voice cut into his concentration, "you going up to major case."

"Yeah, Captain Deakins called at five freakin' a.m. to make sure I get here on time."

"The man is thorough. Come on, I'll take you up to the meeting. Is your dog gonna be upset if you take my arm."

"Nyah, Hank getting used to being part of a threesome," Jim deadpanned to Logan.

"You have a dirty mind," Mike laughed as he led the way.

Up in major case the largest meeting room was full. Karen Betancourt was already there talking to Olivia Benson and Eliot Stabler. Alex Eames and Bobby Goren were backed into a corner by Captain Deakins while he put theories past his two best officers. Connie Suarez left her partner, Hector San Pietro, walked up to greet the pair entering the room.

"Hi, Jimmy," she said as she waved Logan away. "Mike, Carolyn is waiting for you over near Goren and Eames."

"Hi, Connie, have you heard from your friend Stella yet?"

"Yeah, she came out with only a smashed collar bone and a fractured shoulder blade. Ballistics can't tell if the shooter was very sloppy or very good." Connie took Jim to the side of the room. "Jimmy, I'm going to tell you whose here, to see if you know anybody… and to make sure you don't get any surprises."

"This doesn't sound good."

"It probably isn't. Well, there's one uniform pair, Maurice Boscorelli and Mia Reilly from Bed-Stuy. The rest are detectives. There's Jake Balfour and Maritza Gomez from the 27th, Jelly Grimaldi and Faith Yokas, and Azmi Ackbar and Anne Donnelly."

"Anne Donnelly?" Jim felt like a two ton weight just fell on his shoulders.

"Yeah, she just got her gold shield and she's working vice out of the 88th."

"This is just my lucky day, isn't it," he just shook his head. This was a meeting he had been avoiding for over a year. "Is Karen around?"

"Yeah, she's coming this way. And it looks like this show is about to get on the road. I'm going to go to Hector"

"Jim," Karen tapped the back of Dunbar's hand so he would reach up and take her arm, "you got told who was here?"

"Yeah, is there any place we can hide?"

"It looks like everything is about to start. We'll sit in the back and sneak out as soon as we can… uh oh."

"Uh oh, what?"

"Anne's seen us and is heading this way."

"People," the Chief of Detectives stood up, "will everybody take a seat and we can get started."

"Reprieved," Jim sighed, but he knew it wasn't for long.


	3. Chapter 3

Officer Down 03

A Little Give and Take

Christie held her magnifier tight in her right hand as she checked the photos for next months 'Life Styles' section of the magazine. The difference between assistant editor and associate editor may not mean much to Jimmy, but to Christie it was another rung up the corporate ladder. He was trying to understand, she knew he was because all those sessions with Dr. Levine were finally getting him to open up. She leaned back from the light table and sighed, wishing like hell she could crack her neck to relieve the tension there.

"Knock knock," the voice of Clay Simmons broke her concentration, "glad to see you so hard at work, but why are you here?"

"I love my job," she smiled, "and being here Saturday morning is one of the perks. Besides, Jimmy and I are going to lunch after he's finished at One PP."

Clay's face broke out in a huge smile as he enteredher officewith two men behind him. The California clients had just heard about Jimmy.

"I was just telling Mr. Arthur and Mr. Rapapport that you are married to a rather famous police detective. They are really most anxious to talk to you."

"Good morning, a pleasure to meet you again," her smile did not reach her eyes.

"Call me Billy," Mr. Arthur grinned showing his very white teeth. "You disappeared early last night. I hate to let a pretty woman leave without, at least, getting to know her first name."

She rolled her eyes at that tired old line. "I'm Christie Dunbar."

"But your business card tells me you're Christine Sullivan," Rapapport cut in.

"That's my maiden name. I decided that I would use it because I already had a reputation here, but I prefer Dunbar when I'm among friends."

"And my friends call me Aaron," Rapapport replied as he shook Christie's hand and then turned and settled into one of the chairs by her desk. "Clay tells me your husband is a homicide detective. We would love to meet him and, maybe, use him in our photo shoot."

"I don't think that is going to happen, at least not with Jim." She shot Simmons a withering look, "he's camera shy."

"Still, I'd love to meet him. Lunch will be my treat and we'll all go to the Manhattan Grill. Best steaks in the city, I'm told."

"Well, right now I'm waiting for his call. He had to go to a debriefing at One Police Plaza this morning." Christie knew she had made a mistake the moment the words came out of her mouth. The Californians looked like theyhad just hadan orgasm. Here was a cop who was actually at One PP for a debriefing! And of course, now her cell phone began to ring Jimmy's ring.

* * *

"No, no, no and no." Dunbar ground out the words so loudly that Karen took the phone away from him.

"Christie, its Karen, what is the problem? Jim looks like he's about to spit nails."

"I've got some people here who would love to meet some genuine New York City police officers and Jimmy was telling me last night just how much he wanted to meet them." Christie was trying to sound 'up' in a situation that Karen could see was not good. "They want to take us to the Manhattan Grill and you know how much Jimmy likes to go to places he hasn't been to in awhile."

"Oh, I do know that, hold on a sec," Karen gave the phone back to Jim. "Hey, isn't it obvious that Christie can't get out of this."

"We were gonna have a relaxing day today.Do alittle window shopping, lunch and maybe go hear some jazz at the Old Knitting Factory."

"If you were gonna window shop, and I know how much you get outta window shopping, you can go to lunch with some people who can help Christie with her career. Don't tell me you don't like the perks you get with her salary added to yours. After all, you are wearing Hugo Boss."

Jim put the phone to his ear and the sarcasm in his voice was so thick youhad cut it with a machete, "Sure, I'll 'do lunch' with your clients and I'll bring a real police woman with me. Karen will join us, whether she wants to or not. But I pick the place and not the Manhattan Grill. I'll call you back in a few."

He snapped his phone shut and swiveled his head, trying to figure out who was around him. "Eliot?"

"Yeah," Stabler replied.

"Karen and I are going to meet with my wife and some clients of her magazine. They want to take some real New York City police detectives to lunch and they're footing the bill. Care to join us?"

"I'm in, what about you, Livy?"

"Beats housework,"thepretty SVU detective chimed in. Jim smiled as another voice piped up.

"How many can go?" Mike Logan asked as he looked at his partner Carolyn Barak.

"Well, they did say the Manhattan Grill, but if we downscale it a bit, ya never know."

"How about the Apolo on Clinton," Bobby Goren said as he joined the group, "best Chinese food in town."

"I might fight you over that." Dunbar smiled, "but Clinton and Delancey are about as New York as a person could get." He dialed Christine back and told her she was getting seven detectives if the met at the Apolo Restaurant.

He looked up and smiled, "Those guys are gonna think they're in heaven. They produce that show 'The Blues of New York.'"

Bobby Goren laughed out loud. "That's the funniest thing on t. v."

* * *

The cab stopped in front of the Apolo and Christie could see the detectives talking and laughing while they waited for the 'nafo's' to arrive. 

"Jimmy," she walked up and wrapped him in her arms, "I see some familiar faces here."

"Yeah, Eliot Stabler and Mike Logan decided to come along and brought an army with them."

"I, of course, am chopped liver," Karen chuckled.

"No, you are the finest pate in the city. Well, people, I want to introduce you to Aaron Rapapport and William Arthur; the producers of 'The Blues of New York." Christie cringed as she heard a couple of snorts from the cops in front of her, but when she looked at the visitors it was obvious they couldn't take their eyes of Jimmy… and Hank.

"It is a pleasure to meet some of New York's finest," Aaron segued smoothly as he kept his eyes on her husband, "let's eat."

* * *

"So," Billy Arthur pushed his plate away so he could talk. He needed space because he couldn't talk without his arms rotating like demented windmills. "We have three detectives from major case squad, two from special victims unit…" 

"And two regular old homicide cops from the 8th Precinct," Karen cut in.

"Now, that is where you are wrong." Rapapport interrupted. "You two are the most unusual of the bunch."

"And why would that be?" Jim tried to sound innocent, but he knew exactly what Rapapport meant. Christie stiffened at his side, so he gently felt for her hand and gave it a squeeze that said 'I promise not to screw this up for you.'

"Oh, come on Jim, your whole story would make an entire television series, but no one would buy it. It's just too damn unbelievable."

"You should try working with him," Karen mumbled.

"No cheap shots, Karen," Olivia Benson piped in. "You haven't worked with any other partners. I bet Jimmy here is a doll."

"Only if you like to do all the driving," Karen winced like it was a burden.

"Hey," Dunbar laughed, "I told you the first day that Hank doesn't drive."

"Still, how in hell did you get your job back?" Rapapport asked.

"I sued the city under the Americans with Disabilities Act. Plus it was an election year and I was a hero."

Goren, who had been quiet up until now added, "Jim took a bullet to the head, saved at least four lives and managed to come back and keep his record of arrests high."

"How do you know that?" Dunbar swung his head toward Bobby.

"I know some of the people in HR. Believe me when I say there were a lot of people expecting you to crash. burn and take a desk job. I won a few bets when you didn't crap out."

"This is fascinating and so are every one of you, but none of you want to pose for our magazine lay out," Arthur whined.

Eliot answered, "being splashed all over a magazine does not help when you are going under cover."

That was when the cell phones rang. Mike, Bobby, Eliot and Jimmy knew it wasn't good news when Dunbar opened his phone and the text message was read out in a tinny, mechanical voice.

'I just got number two

And there's nothing you can do.

Stop me if you can

And prove that you're a man'

Every officer was on their feet and heading for the door without any explanations. Christie just looked at the men from California and shrugged.

"Sometimes, it just… hits the fan."


	4. Chapter 4

**Officer Down 04**

**Walking Down Memory Lane**

It sounded like they were heading towards a riot, three unmarked cars, sirens screaming, were heading towards St. Clair's Hospital. Karen Betancourt, Bobby Goren and Jim Dunbar arrived in the same car and crowded into the emergency room seconds behind Eliot Stabler and Olivia Benson. Mike Logan and Carolyn Barak had been called back to Major Case as soon as the text message had been intercepted by the techs at One PP. The partners were torn, but knew that too many bodies at St. Clair's only slowed the doctors down.

Goren's cell phone sounded next and his mumbled replies didn't penetrate the bubble of anxiety that surrounded the other officers.

"That was Deakins, he wants me and anyone else I could find to get down to headquarters now… I suggest you turn off your cells. All of you do it because he'll call Livy and Karen too."

The four other officers mumbled their thanks as they killed their phones. Together they went to the waiting room and found Jake Balfour standing against the far wall, pounded his fist in time with the shaking of his shoulders.

"Jake, what happened," Olivia said as she wrapped her hand around his bloodied fingers.

"We were set up," Jake sobbed. "We were called to this flop in the Bowery and told there was evidence of a drug… drug… a drop going to happen tonight. We were there to set up surveillance. No suspects to apprehend; just check it out and then BANG and Maritza was down."

Olivia managed to turn Balfour around and get him to sit beside her on a cracked vinyl couch. Karen watched the man rock back and forth when she felt Jim hand her Hank's leash. When he stepped tentatively forward Karen gave Jim a gentle push in the right direction and he bumped softly into Balfour. Crouching down, Jim placed his hand on Jake's knee.

"Jake, man, you didn't do anything wrong. This kind of stuff happens. There was nothing you could do to prevent this."

Jake Balfour was about to lash out at Dunbar, but was stopped by the realization that this man had been right where his partner was now.

"What do I do for her? What if she…"

"Just be ready for anything. Do you know where she was shot? Was it the shoulder again?"

"Yeah, but she caught it in the joint. It looked like her arm was gonna fall off. What if she's totally screwed?"

"Believe me; no one is ever totally screwed." Jim smiled his crooked smile, "but for now we deal with one thing at a time. Does Maritza have family coming? They're gonna need you as much as she's gonna need you. Can you pull it together for them, for her?"

"Yeah, I can. Thanks Jim... Olivia, I'll be okay now."

"I'll make sure of that," the voice of Captain Arthur Fancy came from the doorway. "Right now all previous orders are cancelled and the rest of you get back to your precincts. And turn your damn phones back on."

"Captain," Karen said, "Dunbar and I were supposed to be off today, I think we'll stay just a little while longer."

"That is, if Jake wants us to stay," Jim added.

"Yeah, please, just for a little while, 'til my wife gets here." Jake let out a shuddering little laugh. "My two best girls together in the same place and they'd both shoot me if they heard me say that."

"Then, we stay," Jim gripped Jake's hand and settled down for the long haul.

* * *

Christiearrived about two hours later. She finally managed to ditch the producers and head to St. Clair's Hospital. This was where the NYPD sent their wounded and she knew what it was like waiting for the doctors to drop the bombs that changed your life forever. Christie didn't know the officers involved, but she knew Karen and Jimmy and knew she'd damn near have to pry them out physically to get them to leave. The corridor was clogged with blues and brass. The door to the waiting room was closed, but behind the observation windows she could see stoic men and women inside. She felt herself being pulled back to the day she was so sure she had lost her man. Funny, looking back on it now, maybe that was the day she found him again.

Then Christie saw him, her Jimmy with a little girl on his lap and Hank right up there licking the child's hands. Jim was good with kids… he needed a few of his own… damn, where did that thought come from.

Christie had just made it into the room when a surgeon entered behind her. She saw a tall man take the little girl off Jimmy's lap onto his own and hold her tight. A man with haunted eyes reached out to Jimmy as if he was an anchor.

"Officer Gomez is finished with surgery and in recovery. I would like to talk the family privately, if I may."

Some of the people filed out quickly, but that haunted man would not let go of Jim.

"Jimmy, I've come to take you home, if you're ready." Christie said as she walked to her husband.

"Jake, its time I headed out. Call me, if you need to talk." Jim waited until Christie was beside him before giving the man's shoulder one more squeeze.

Out in the hallway the buzz had already started. Nothing could save the Maritza Gomez's right arm. Had it been that way when Jimmy was hurt? No, the blindness wasn't immediately apparent, they were just worried whether he would live or die. Christie snaked her arm around his waist and pulled him as close as she could.

"God, I love you Jimmy," her voice was tainted by tears. "Don't you ever put me though anything like this again."

"I'll try not to, I promise with all my heart."

* * *

Jim and Christie invited Karen back to their place and ordered in Chinese food. Both Jim and Karen were spinning, talking motives, possibilities and probabilities when the door bell rang. Mike Logan was there with pizza and beer. Eliot Stabler, Bobby Goren, Azmi Ackbar and Gummy Grimaldi descended one by one, each bearing take out food and theories.

"We have got," Grimaldi said as he reached for another slice, "one perverted bastard with his own idea of chivalry."

"Chivalry means shooting the women?" Mike was amazed with Gummy's train of thought. "I'd have taken out the men, myself. I gotta hope this chivalry dies real damn quick."

"No, in a strange way, he may be right." Bobby Goren stated. "The women will now have to be looked after and the men will get new and probably male partners."

"And what about us?" Karen stopped her rapid pacing. "Nobody ever told me women and children first came at the end of a gun."

"And there is no way this is only one person." Jim said as hemoved his hands around his handball. "How did anyone find out who was partnered with who and not have inside info. And the set ups, cadaver parts was one sick trick but this one was too damn believable."

"Deakins is not letting Mike or me near this case," Goren said, "and I bet he is going to try to keep us chained to our desks until there's a suspect behind bars."

"That's easy for you, you can play with computers and background checks," Grimaldi snorted,"but these guys and me are out on the streets every day. There ain't enough detectives to pull ten teams off the line."

"Eight teams," Ackbar stated calmly, "there are only eight teams left now. Two are gone. Gomez may never be back on the streets again."

"Never count anyone out, hey Jimmy."

"You can say that again, Mikey."

"Oh, stop with the love fest, you two." Gummy heaved himself out of the chair and grabbed his coat. "I am going home, calling Faith and suggesting she get a bad case of the blue flu until this thing blows over."

"I doubt that will ever happen," Karen shook her head, "I've met her."

"Well, maybe I'll get the flu. I could use a vacation in February. Just keep that nut Boscorelli away from her. Good night, Mrs. Dunbar, you have the patience of Job putting up with us bozos tonight." With that, Grimaldi was out the door.

Christie looked at the people crowded around her dining table. Good cops, every one of them and, except for Jimmy, everyone of them alone. It took someone with either a real thick skin or a whole lot of love and probably both; to be a cop's spouse.

"I'm making coffee to go with those donuts. I can't let a good stereotype down."

She smiled when she heard "and that's another reason I love my wife."

* * *

All the lights were off by the time Jimmy crawled into bed that night. Christie was still awake and waiting for her man to settle in beside her.

"Was it like that with me?" Jim whispered as he gathered her close to him.

"No, it was worse. There were dead cops, dead civilians and you taking out that bastard before going down, all on television for the whole world to see. When I got there I had microphones stuck in my face asking me how I felt about your death." She tensed in his arms, "Did I ever tellyouI watched the whole thing on New York One before I even knew it was you."

Jim reached up and wiped the tears he knew were in her eyes.

"It was worse when I got there and that woman was saying she was your girlfriend. I felt like such a fool, but it didn't seem important then." Christie shifted in his arms and sat up, pulling him with her. "Tonight I saw a part of your world I've never seen before and I admit it's a world I know next to nothing about. But Jimmy, all of you are insulated in a society most people never see. They're nice guys; even Karen is one of the guys."

"I've got something to tell you," Jim said and started chewing his lower lip. "Ackbar is in vice and has a rookie detective as a partner. It's Anne Donnelly."

Christie pulled away from Jim turned her back to him. He reached for her shoulder, but she shrugged it away.

"Do you remember what Doctor Levine said last time we talked, about the 12 steps."

"Yeah," Jim replied tentatively "cheaters anonymous, right?"

"Step four is making a moral inventory. Jimmy, I did that and realized I had tried to make you into something you weren't and would never be. Here is my number five, I am telling myself and you I expected you to be something you weren't. But you were a bastard to me and to that woman. I have to make amends to you and accept you for who you are, but I expect the same thing from you. You are going to have to talk to that woman and apologize to her. Don't tell me when you do it, but tell me after it's done."

"Christie…"

She turned back to Jim. "She's a detective now. You're going to see her because of this stuff. Now is the time to let go… and let God or your higher power or whatever to finally finish that part of your life; our lives."

"When you're right, you're right." Jim could feel her start to relax. So he opened his arms and Christie slipped into his embrace. "Karen's a friend of Anne; I'll have her set something up a.s.a.p. Okay."

"Yes, Karen I trust. You, well little by little I'm learning to trust again."


	5. Chapter 5

**Officer Down 05**

**Too Little, Too Late**

Fisk tried to keep Karen safe. With Tom Selway's help he sent her for mandatory union training. Then he sent to the One PP for testing and re-evaluation saying it would help her move up a pay grade sooner rather than later. It was when Fisk counted up her vacation days and suggested she take her Mom to Puerto Rico that Karen finally blew.

"Will you just stop it! Sir, I can take care of myself." Karen was too damn anger to realize just how insubordinate she was being.

"I'm just trying to keep me teams together. I hate visiting hospitals unless it involves babies and I hope you're not pregnant." The flicker of a smile on her face showed Fisk he had managed to deflect some of her anger. "Karen, every one of the squad leaders is doing the same thing with their people. You are too important a part of this squad to lose."

"Nothing has happened in two weeks. Maybe the suspect stopped, or got arrested for something else or… hell… died. We might never know…"

"Until someone gets shot again. Get out of here, your partner must be busting to hear what the shouting was all about."

Karen made it back to her desk before the men started their game.

"I wonder where Karen is going now," Marty singsonged.

"I bet she's expected at the firing range for retesting," Tom smirked.

"Nyah," Jim grinned. "I bet she's being sent to John Jay to learn how to cover her ass."

"Will you idiots shut the hell up," she shook her head as she sat at her desk. "Where is a nice multiple homicide when you need one?"

* * *

Things were quiet at the station, so Jim and Karen managed to make it to Wo Hop's for lunch.

"I heard Gomez was released to Kessler yesterday." Karen said as she poured the Chinese tea that arrived with the menus. "After that, who knows what's gonna happen?"

"Yeah," Jim replied, "Bonasera already tried to go back to CSU and Mac Taylor threatened to break her other arm to get her home. I hear she's got a cast that sits over both her shoulders and down chest as well as her left arm." He paused, "Karen, you have to understand none of us want to see you get hurt like that."

"So, we've got to catch this sicko before he shoots someone else."

"Actually, I've got a favour to ask you." Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose, but left his glasses on.

"I am not reading the menu for you when you got a Brailleone in front of you," she snarked. "Christie told me you have to learn to read it, damn it."

"My women are ganging up on me… ouch, watch the shins."

"Watch your mouth, 'my women', what a load of shit."

"Oohh, testy, aren't we." Jim laughed.

"You sound like Russo. What do you want?"

"I need to talk to Anne Donnelly," he said quickly.

Karen sat up straighter. "Does Christie know about this?"

"Christie's demanding it. She wants to put the Donnelly episode behind us and I think… no, I know she's right and I am finally ready to do it."

"You think you can see without hurting her. You hurt her pretty bad, you know."

"Yeah, I think I can, at last."

* * *

Azmi Ackbar fiddled with the French cuffs of his slate gray shirt. He always felt likeone of the pimps he chased when he wore his Armani. It didn't matter the suit was a hand me down from his cousin, the doctor. It didn't matter that his shoulder holster barely raised a wrinkle on the jacket. The whole outfit hollered pimp. Then he looked over at his partner, Anne Donnelly. A black sheath with the neck cut down to there and the skirt slit up to there meant the only thing that kept the clothe on her body was the belt. Well, maybe his suit wasn't that bad.

"Where's T'Chana? I thought you were supposed to look like you had a stable full of high class fillies." Anne giggled as she fiddled with her partner's lapels.

"Maybe she doesn't like the Mercer. I called the boss at midnight and he said give it another twenty minutes and then head home." Azmi tucked his thumb under her chin and tilted Anne's head up as he checked her out. "You definitely look the part. I just hope we can shut this thing down tonight. I've got non refundable tickets to take my Habibi and the kids to a Disney World weekend."

"I see T'Chana now." Anne smiled at the tall, black woman wearing a red version of her outfit came into the station house.

"Are we ready to put on a show for the out of town johns?" Lieutenant T'Chana Symons said as she caught up with her team.

"We've gottwo men in the lobby. It's the time to call it off or go, we've only got the limo for another half hour," Azmi said as he opened the door for the women.

The Mercer was one of the best hotels in So Ho, its understated elegance screamed discreet. Only a short walk to some of the finest restaurants, clubs and galleries in the downtown area the Mercer attracted the hip and the wannabe hipsters from out of town and that attracted some of the better class of working girl. Things had gotten hinky lately, too many johns rolled and robbed and too many girls disappeared and dead. Prostitution was supposed to be a victimless crime, but when the morgue started getting the broken bodies of these 'girls' the victims became pretty obvious. A tip from an anonymous source had told the local squad that there was going to be a 'virgin auction' there tonight and T'Chana Symons was determined to stop it. She pulled her best man and his new partner to help her get this done.

The limo pulled up to the simple double doors that led to the lobby. The tip told them the auction was to take place in a So Ho suite, one of those $2500 a night places most cops never got to see unless there was a chalk body outline on the floor. For Anne Donnelly, this was her trial by fire, the first time she was an integral part of a big money take down. Stepping out of the limo, she tugged the fur chubby tighter round her shoulders, smiled at her partner and her boss and stepped on a little patch of ice that caused her to slip ever so slightly to the left.

She never even heard the shot.


	6. Chapter 6

This is a really short chapter, I hope I haven't disappointed anyone with it but this is business that had to be taken care.

**Officer Down 06**

**It's Too Late, Baby**

It was past midnight.

"Phone's ringing," Christie moaned sleepily. Jim just grunted so she reached for it, but the damn thing wasn't on the night stand. Christie smiled as remembered their front door to bed room strip tease. They hadn't been that 'randy' in over two years but the old spark seemed to be re-lit and because of that the damn cell phone could be anywhere.

"Phone's ringing…" he mumbled.

"I'll get it," Christie rolled out of bed and followed the trail of clothes until she came to Jim's overcoat. The phone was stuffed in the inside pocket, she retrieved it as she shook out and hung up the coat. "Honey, should I answer this?" she said as she gathered the rest of the clothes. No answer from the bed, well, might as well see what the message was.

Number three, number three,

This just shouldn't be.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod… Jimmy, Jimmy!" she dropped the clothes and stumbled into the bedroom.

"Christie! What is it?" Jim rolled out of bed and grabbed his shaking wife by her shoulders.

"It's another one of those messages."

* * *

Jim used the landline in the living room to call One PP, keeping the cell for the techs to examine. He didn't even know who had been hit or what condition she was in. She… Jim figured it was a she… Faith Yokas or Connie Suarez or…

He jumped up, turned and knocked over the lamp on the end table. "Christie, call Karen right now... please."

She was beside him instantly, "Jimmy, Karen will be okay. She shouldn't be out without her partner." She pressed the receiver back into his hand. "Call major case and find out what's going on."

As if on cue the phone rang with Karen's ring tone, startling Jim so badly he jumped banging his shins on the coffee table.

"Hello, oh thank God its you, Karen." Jim wrapped his arm around his wife and sank into the couch. "Did you hear about the text message? … Who phoned you? … Karen, who was hurt?"

Jim turned white as a sheet, the phone slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

"Jimmy?" Christie took the receiver, "Karen, what's going on?"

"Anne Donnelly was shot in the head… the doctors have her on life support until they can contact her next of kin and then they're probably suggest… letting her go."

* * *

Azmi Ackbar sat alone in the waiting room at St. Clair's. He had phoned his wife, telling her what had happened, that he was safe but his partner had lost the entire left frontal lobe of her brain. Lieutenant Symons was with the assisting major case investigators at the crime scene, lucky bitch. He just sat here and waited for Annie to die. Azmi insisted that the rest of the group stay home. There was nothing any of them could do but get in the way. Damn, he was just getting used to having Anne as a partner; he'd even introduced her to Noor and the kids.

"Azmi?" Ackbar looked up to see the Dunbars enter the waiting room. "We didn't want you to be alone."

"Thanks Jim," Azmi said because if he said get the hell outta here you cheating bastard it would be considered in poor taste.

"I'm going to get some coffee, would you like some?" Dunbar's pretty wife asked gently.

"Yeah, thanks," Azmi said as he watched Christie Dunbar lay her hand on Jim's shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze before she left. Then the man started to chew on his lower lip. Annie said this was a sure sign Dunbar was thinking about what he was about to say.

"You know Anne and I have a history."

"Yeah, I know you screwed around on your wife with Annie and didn't tell her you were married. I know when she tried to see you when you were shot you barred her from your room and brushed her off like she was nothing. She never got over you, asshole. All she wanted to do was talk to you. When we were all at One PP you hid from her when she tried to see you. Well, I'm glad you didn't want to see her because you're s. o. l. now, aren't you."

"Yeah, I'm shit outta luck now. I pretended Anne disappeared when I couldn't see her anymore. I am a bastard and Christie knows it and you know it and I know it."

"Then do me a big favour. Get out before I get charged with assaulting a police officer."

* * *

Did he look pathetic, standing in the hallway clutching his white cane and tilting his head to catch his bearings? He looked blind. Jim knew he looked blind because he caught himself falling into the blind-isms he tried to avoid. Why did he even bother to play that game with himself? The 'maybe they won't notice' game because he was ashamed of himself… ashamed he was blind.

"Jimmy, what are you doing here?" Christie asked as she tapped the back of his hand with the coffee cup.

"I got kicked out by Ackbar. He didn't want to be around the bastard that hurt his partner."

"Jimmy, I'm sorry. He shouldn't have done that."

"And why not?" Jim angrily shot back. "Maybe I didn't shoot her, but I hurt her I'll never be able to apologize. Don't feel bad for me."

"I don't, I feel bad for that woman… no, I'm lying. I wanted this part of our lives over and now it's never going to be over. I thought being here and helping her partner was a way to… I don't know… do penance. Both of us, I can't even say her name so I guess I'm just as incomplete about this as you. Okay, so what are we going to do now?"

"I wish I knew."

* * *

Chief Tunney called Jim Deakins. Jim Deakins called Gary Fisk and Don Creegan because he wanted Dunbar, Betanncourt, Stabler and Benson. He knew his people could work with their people. It was past time to end the bleeding… three times too late. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Officer Down 07**

**Lights… Camera…**

Chief Tunney looked at the personnel seated round the table. This bunch together was something he had never wanted to see against him, but couldn't be happier to have working for him. Logan and Dunbar meshed, which was good, because Goren and Stabler didn't and never would. The women, though, followed Olivia Benson naturally because Eames had a really acid personality, yet Benson deferred to Alex Eames. This had better work or they were all screwed.

"Okay," Captain Deakins said as he entered the conference room with the chief trailing behind, "we have information on Officer Donnelly. She is currently in intensive care at St. Clair's and her parents will be arriving this afternoon. Chief Tunney sent Grimaldi and Yokas to escort them to the hospital. The Donnellys have requested this time alone with their daughter." Deakins scanned the people, none of them were easy to read in any way, shape or form but he wanted to know them; needed to know them. Jim Deakins wanted to be able to crook his finger and get who he wanted when he needed new personnel.

"The Chief has something to say and then we'll get to work."

"People, I'm here to tell you that the New York City Police Department will not be held hostage by snipers. You have been brought here because it is felt you can work together to get this case closed quickly. The other sets of partners receiving the text messages have been re-assigned to desk duties, but we cannot afford to keep them or you tied up too long. So, get to it… Deakins will keep me informed. Good day and good luck." Tunney turned and left the room.

"Yeah," snarked Logan, "or we might all get shipped to Staten Island."

* * *

Dossiers were opened; crime scene photos examined minutely and computers scrambled through the NYPD data bases looking for clues to the why of these shootings. 

"We know we have at least one sniper," Goren said as he paced around the table, "but there is no way to know how many insiders the shooter or shooters are working with."

"So, it's an inside job with multiple suspects, that was a given," Stabler shot back.

"I am just indicating our starting point," Goren stopped and calmly scribbled a few lines in his notebook.

"Guys, we absolutely can not turn this into a pissing contest," Dunbar put in. "So lets give the media a target, who is going to be the lead in this investigation and then they can play follow the leader."

"Any nominations," Eames smirked at the men.

"I think you would do a great job," Dunbar answered. "You've been here at Major Case the longest and anyone who could put up with Bobby Goren over five years must have the patience of a saint."

"No, no, no… there is no way I'm going to be the ringmaster of this circus." Alex smiled and shook her head. "Frankly, the only detective who hasn't got someone at their throat right now is you, Jimmy."

"You weren't at St. Clair's last night." Dunbar leaned his head back. "Face it, Alex, there is a whole lot that I can't do and I am not going to let this investigation be turned into a joke. No blind leading the blind here."

"No, you'd just be a referee," Olivia Benson said.

"No, as the lead in this investigation I would be the face in front of the camera."

"Jim," Olivia said softly, "we've all been in face on the front page before and none of us like it. You had better come up with a better excuse than that."

"Okay, better excuse… I think this case needs the face of a woman out there to let the city see that women can solve these attacks and you don't need your male partners to save you," he smiled and spread his hands, "even if you actually do."

Karen reached over and bitch slapped her partner,

* * *

After lunch Deakins came out of his office and went into the conference room. "Okay, what have we got?" 

Bobby Goren took the lead. "We are running all ten of our service files to see what any cross references are. We are also checking all civilian personnel who have access to those files."

"And employees who were rejected and expelled from the police academy, but managed to get a civilian job within the department," Alex Eames finished Bobby's thoughts automatically.

"Especially if those employees have an armed forces background," Bobby tacked on.

Karen Bettancourt spoke next. "Also checking back six months to see any television or newspaper coverage of the ten officers to see if the media is what might have brought them to the attention of our suspects."

"Because we all want to see our mugs in the Times," Dunbar cracked and relieved the tension that was building in the room.

"So that means when we finally have leads on potential suspects," Deakins said, "the job will be more than half done."

* * *

Christie Dunbar okayed the last page layout for the April edition and slumped behind her desk. She did not know how she made it in on time, but she did. However she was not sure if she'd manage to stay awake until five o'clock.

The intercom buzzed, "Ms. Sullivan, Mr. Rapapport and Mr. Arthur are here."

She thought 'God, I don't need this' but Christie said, "Send them in," and rose to meet the television producers.

"Mrs. Dunbar, Christie," Rapapport had a smile that almost cleaved his face in half, "I can not tell you just how much our visit here last month impressed us."

"Yes," Billy Arthur added with more enthusiasm than his partner. "When we came here last time, all we wanted was a photo op. Now we have the go ahead from our production company to start preliminaries on three, possibly four, television pilots. We simply cannot tell you how that lunch inspired us."

Christie's jaw dropped as the men settled themselves into the chairs in front of her desk.

"How?" she finally got out. "None of those people want anything to do with you or with television. You were lucky I managed to get a few officers recommended by the PR department at One PP to pose with the actors and those officers may still pull out of the deal."

"No, Christie, we don't need their permission to create a television pilot. We don't want them in front of the camera; we want them behind the camera as consultants. We are going to the NYPD with the idea of true stories about true crimes. Only the names will be changed to protect the innocent or whatever that thing they said on Dragnet." Arthur was beaming.

Rapapport leaned forward, as if he wanted to draw Christie into secret negotiations. "We really think your husband's story would make an excellent television movie. A hero cop wounded in the line of duty, permanently handicapped, fighting city hall to get his job back and getting back on the streets."

Christie started to laugh. "That is never going to happen. Jimmy wouldn't even pose for the magazine lay out and you want him to be the basis of a movie."

"Its action adventure with a big dash of angst," Arthur enthused. "Besides, we might change the handicap, make it more believable."

"More believable than what really happened? You can't say that and reality programming in the same breathe. "

"Mrs. Dunbar, we are here to simply give you a heads up." Rapapport was no longer smiling. "We didn't have to come here at all. We decided to let you know that the officers we met last month were inspirational, especially your husband."

Christie knew she had gone too far and had angered some significant clients.

"You must forgive me. My husband and I were at St. Clair's Hospital last night because of another… sniper shooting."

The men in front of her suddenly went from annoyance to interest. Oh god, this was not the way to stop them.

"I really can't say what is going on right now," Christie tried to hide her nervousness. "It's both an ongoing investigation and a private matter."

The intercom buzzed, causing Christie to jump. It was Clay.

"Christie, turn on your television. There's a news conference about that case Jim is working on."

Christie kneaded her forehead and turned on the television. There was Chief Tunney in front of a phalanx of microphones yammering about the sniper attacks. Behind him were Jimmy and Karen, Mike Logan, Bobby Goren, Carolyn Barek, Olivia Benson, Eliot Stabler and some woman who hadn't managed to get a free lunch from these producers. Guess this is where they all find out there ain't no such thing as a free lunch. Then Karen approached the microphones.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Karen Bettancourt. This special task force's sole objective is to apprehend the suspect in these of shootings. Steps have been taken to keep the officers involved safe…"

"Wow," said Arthur "is she hot. I wonder if she'd consider a screen test."

* * *

It was after nine when Jim made it home. He'd left Christie a message saying he'd be late, but he never expected to be this late. He felt so exhausted he didn't even think he wanted to eat. 

"Christie," he called softly.

"In the living room on the couch," she answered.

Carefully Jim took off Hank's harness, hung up his coat and put his brief case away. God, he wished he could just dump everything on the floor and crawl next to his wife, but if he did that tomorrow he'd be completely lost. Then he felt Christie arms reach round his waist and leaned back into her embrace.

"That feels good," he sighed, "I thought I was going to go crazy today."

"I saw you on TV, you didn't look happy."

"At least I didn't have to get in front of the microphones. I think the women are going to rotate that particular duty."

Jim allowed Christie to lead him to the couch where he shucked off his suit coat and tie before sinking into the cushions. Christie gently massaged his shoulders and wondered just how she was going to tell him about the return of Misters Rapapport and Arthur.

"Christie, I thought my butt was going to grow corners. All day in front of that computer and listening to that annoying voice program… it was like being trapped in a cave with Robbie the robot. Tomorrow looks like more of the same. There are so many possibilities and angles and cross references that have to be checked before we can even set foot out of the Major Case office. When we finally get started I don't think we'll be able to stop before we run the suspect down… or someone else gets shot."

"That's terrible. I can't imagine how you can stand it." Christie's hands drifted up to Jim's head, gently moving in small circles at the temples. This always relaxed him but tensed her because Christie could feel the scars from the bullet wound under her fingertips. "You get so tense when you can't get on the street."

Jim swung around and took Christie's hands in his. She knew he had something to say, but really didn't want to say anything at all. She held his hands a little tighter hoping this would let Jim know she was open for anything he had to say. Jim cracked his neck and began.

"We heard from St. Clair's today. Anne Donnelly is going to survive and is coming out of her coma, but she has suffered significant and traumatic brain injury. That was the doctor's diagnoses, significant and traumatic brain injury. She'll never be the same. Maybe a vegetable or trapped in a body that can't speak or hear or… see or having the mind of an infant. Maybe Anne would be better off dead."

"But she's alive," Christie said as she pulled Jimmy into her arms. "Where there's life, there's hope. We learned that, didn't we?"

"God, Christie, I never before realized before just how lucky I am."


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the delay, I hope this will make up for the wait.

**Officer Down 08**

**Some Action**

Maurice Boscorelli hated to be inside his precinct house and being behind this desk was the worst. Now, because some skell was shooting women officers he was in the property room, doling out flack jackets, walkie talkiesand ammo. His partner, Mai Rielly, had enough vacation time saved up to take a trip to Kansas to see her parents. Kansas in February… all that snow covered flat… Bosco couldn't imagine miles and miles of flat white nothing. Hope she was having a good time watching the snow fall there cause he sure wasn't having any fun watching the dust settle here.

"Hey, Bos," he looked up to see his former partner, Faith Yokas, coming into the property room. "How are you holding up?"

"Faith, come to verbally abuse me?" Bosco drawled as he leaned back and put his feet on the desk, "cause if you are, you'll have to take a wait your turn."

"I've always been your number one fan." She smiled as she leaned over the desk top, "I hear your partner pulled a disappearing act; same as mine."

"Yeah, cashed in vacation time," he answered. "I gotta tell you, though, my partner isn't as 'well rounded' as yours."

"I believe the word you're looking for is rotund. Actually, how would you like to get out of here for a while."

"Whose butt do I have to kiss and how often." Bosco checked out Yokas to make sure she was giving him the straight good.

"Jim Deakins, the captain over at Major Case. They might just have a need for a grunt in uniform to do the jobs nobody else wants to do. You were the first name everybody agreed on."

"Sure, I'd get a kick working with you again, Detective Yokas."

Faith laughed at him. "Not this time. I'm taking then kids to Disney World with the blessings of the NYPD; one less officer to protect. Besides, I want to have one more time with Emily before she starts college. She's almost grown, this is the last kid type vacation we're ever gonna have."

"So, who am I supposed to be working with while you twirl in a teacup?" Boscorelli hoped like hell that it wasn't that Goren creep.

* * *

"People," Deakins said as he entered the office, "are we ready to roll?"

The officers answered with their feet, gathering their equipment and coats to get out on the street quickly.

"Wait a minute," Deakins held up his hands to stop the teams. "There's going to be some re-arranging here. Eames, I want you to travel with Bettancourt, Barek and Benson, Logan and Stabler and finally Goren and Dunbar. Let's see if this'll shake up our shooter."

"Either that or get the sniper to pop off two rounds instead of one," Mike Logan said what everyone was thinking.

"We aren't going to catch anybody sitting around here," Alex Eames, "and I knew I could get hurt when I took this job. My partner is Robert Goren and if you ask me Bobby is the person I want to walk out of here with."

Deakins looked at the rest of the people in the room. "Do the rest of you feel the same way."

The four teams paired up naturally, they were partners and that was all that mattered.

"Whatever, you can't say I didn't try. Get outta here." The captain turned and went into his office.

* * *

"We're heading to Ocean Parkway first." Karen said as she fastened her seatbelt, "and then over to Coney Island Avenue. If we have enough time maybe we can head to King's Highway."

"Hey, don't plan too much," Jim settled into the passenger seat. "If we get these first two interviews wrapped up we'll see about the third one."

"Don't worry, the sun is shining, traffic is light and we got the first real leads to anything is this case. What more could we want."

"Answers," Jim snapped his seat belt shut. "Let's go."

They headed south over the Brooklyn Bridge and to the wide tree lined street called Ocean Parkway. Karen parked near the bare trees and park benches that lined the street; scanning the sidewalks for patches of snow and ice. She hoped that Jim never realized how she now automatically took into consideration how she was going to guide him from place to place. Frankly, she told herself, she just didn't want to have to pick him up if he went flying. Jim Dunbar was just too damn big for her to pick up. Of course, it could be worse; she could be paired with six foot five inch tall Bobby Goren.

The buildings that lined this end of Ocean Parkway gave off an air of neglected elegance. Once, this had been one of 'the' neighborhoods of Brooklyn and it was still a good place to live, but time had taken its toll. When Karen and Jim walked to the front door of the apartment building, the sidewalk was clean, but broken. Soon the ancient elevator rattled and shook before it were deposited them on the fourth floor. The door to Apartment 4D was already open.

"So," Ira Bellov said as he ushered the detectives into his home, "I got the famous Detective Dunbar."

"You were expecting us," Jim asked as he folded his cane.

"I knew what files were being called up to Major Case so I knew someone would be here." Bellov shifted piles of papers and magazines off his couch to clear a spot for the investigators. "Here, have a seat. Can I get you anything… coffee… a soda."

"No, thank you, Mr. Bellov," Karen smiled as she and Jim settled onto the sofa. "Just here to ask a few questions."

"I'm all yours, I have nothing to hide." Bellov sank into the recliner opposite them.

"Is your son still living with you?" Jim asked.

"No, as you probably already know, my son is in Israel. He invoked the right of return and is in the Israeli army now."

"Did they know he had a conditional discharge from the Marine Corps," Jim sounded skeptical. Ira Bellov's son was not a 'good soldier'.

"Listen, Noah may not have been a peace keeper but Israel needs soldiers, warriors. The fact he beat up some locals in bar fight in Seoul means nothing to them. Noah tells me they keep him on a very short leash. Israel is a country with a war mentality and they will use him and he'll, frankly, use them."

"You sound cynical, Mr. Bellov," Karen put in.

Ira Bellov smiled a sad smile. "The only reason my boy was a Marine was because enlisting kept him out of jail. My boy, he's no saint."

"Saints don't usually rob grocery stores to get the money to hunt bears in Alaska." Karen said as she checked her notes.

"I think he thought I had more pull in the department than I actually did." Mr. Bellov looked at his gnarled hands. "I have arthritis pretty bad now, but I can still punch a keyboard. I do know who's who and what's what in human resources for the NYPD. I've even been known to help re-distribute personnel within the precincts and keep the manpower flow working right." His eyes slipped from Karen to Jim. "I never expected you to get back on the streets, Detective Dunbar. I figured that you might be able to keep Fisk from going crazy and, maybe, eventually move into a more supervisory position. You got the smarts for it."

"I'm a street cop," Jim gave his standard reply.

"Yeah, and look what that got you." Bellov shot back, no longer sounding reasonable or sad. "You could do better. Being in house isn't the end of the world. I used to be a street cop to, over in Bed-Stuy, then I moved to tactical enforcement."

"What did you do there?" Karen asked when she did not find the information in her notes.

"My girl," Bellov smiled, "that's why you're here, I was a sniper."

* * *

Where Ocean Parkway was shabby chic; Coney Island Avenue was just plain shabby. The buildings ran right to the sidewalk. Rubbish collected and clogged the grates over the storm sewers. Karen parked by a small bodega waited while Jim walked Hank.

"I think Hank should come with us, don't you?" Jim said as he returned to the car.

Karen scanned the street peppered with small dark diners, empty storefronts and used tire shops, "yeah, I think that would be a good idea."

They walked the two blocks to the gates that barred access to the decrepit apartment building. The courtyard was littered with ripped black garbage bags, broken furniture and rusted bicycles. Three concrete steps got them in and two flights got them to Apartment 2A and Gertrude Groelsh.

"I don't see why you're even here," Trudi said as she lit here her next cigarette off the butt of her last one. "I never worked for youse guys. It was my husband, Murray, God rest his soul."

Jim put his best blank face forward, even though the tobacco stink of this place made his skin crawl. "Your husband worked for the NYPD for thirty two years as an police officer and a criminalist. I believe he was partnered with Mack Taylor and knew Stella Bonasera."

"Yeah, I got their pictures on the wall over there. Murray got pictures of all his kids, that's what he called his trainees, his kids." Trudi Groelsh pulled another deep drag off her cigarette. "Thing is, he didn't have no trouble with the department."

"I'm sorry, but it says here that your husband threatened Bonasera before he retired." Karen said as she checked her notes.

"Actually, that wasn't nobody's fault. You see, it was the Alzheimers disease. Sometimes it starts out with people being mad and they don't even know why."

"Still, Mr. Groelsh had his defenders."

"They might've seemed like defenders, but they weren't friends. His 'real' friends knew he was wrong and told him so. In the end they knew what was happening to him too, 'the old timer's disease.' Those defender typesjust like to make trouble any way they can. Murray loved his job almost more'n he loved me, but that's pretty much the same with every good cop." Trudi looked from Karen to Jim. "Youse two can't tell me you never ran into the bottom feeders out there… every precinct has'em. I just don't unnerstand why they couldn't leave Murray alone. It was Stella they was after."

"Is there anything you can remember, Mrs. Groelsh?" Jim hand reached down toscratch Hank behind the ears.

"Nice dog ya got there. Murray always wanted a dog." Trudi sighed and stubbed her cigarette in a huge, overflowing ashtray. "I'm just talking out my ass. Look, it wasn't me and Murray's dead… I don't want to hurt nobody and I don't want nobody to get hurt. That's all I gotta say, so why don'cha head out and walk the dog."

"Well, if that's all you've got for us, I don't think we need to be here any longer." Jim and Karen rose to leave. "If we need to ask any more questions we may return."

"Don't be too long, cause I might not be here." Trudi shifted in her chair.

"Leaving town?"

"Permanently, which is why I don't want to hurt nobody. If God asks me about hurting anybody I want to say I never did."

The walk back to the car was quiet, thoughtful.

"I don't think I'd be shooting cops if I was dying," Karen said. "I'd besomeplace other thanmy apartment."

"We'll, we do have time to head to the suspect on King's Highway," Jim said as his phone began ringing. He flipped it open and listened. "Karen, shots were fired at Alex Eames. She wasn't hit, though. Maybe we're finally catching a break."

"Where are we heading," Karen called as she jumped into the car.

Jim jammed his shades hard down on his face, "Red Hook."


	9. Chapter 9

Officer Down 09 

**More Action**

It seemed like light years since Jim Dunbar raced through the streets, sirens screaming, to a crime scene. First response wasn't part of his job description anymore. Still, once Karen put the flashing light on the dash and flipped on the siren he was back in the zone. The car seemed to home in on the Red Hook address quickly. The combined scent of the docks, diesel and dirt told Jim he was home.

"What street are we on?" Jim asked as he tried to picture where he was.

"We're on Dwight, heading to Beard. Eames and Goren were outside Lillie's Café about to take a coffee break after interviewing Martin Babcock, forensic accountant." Karen rattled off facts because she needed to steady herself. Karen had come to respect… even like Alex Eames and Olivia Benson.

"I know that place, I used to bus tables there… but it wasn't called Lillie's then."

"Yeah, this was home, sweet home for you, wasn't it?" Karen cast her eyes quickly to her partner. The hard line of Jim mouth spoke louder than words, "Or maybe it wasn't?"

"It wasn't," was all he said?

Karen had a hard time finding parking near Lillie's, the narrow street were lined with prowl cars and roped off by yellow crime scene tape. Jim slid out of the car and reached to the back door to get Hank safe beside him. The neighbourhood here used to rough; hell, the whole of Red Hook used to be rough, but gentrification was finally starting here. Lillie's Café was a bit of both.

"Over here," Goren's voice called Karen and Jim. He and Alex were leaning against their car, talking to the newly arrived Mack Taylor and the CSI crew.

"Our sniper is not a very good shot," Alex said as she touched Jim's elbow to stop him.

"Either our man is getting antsy," Taylor said, "or we are dealing with more than one shooter."

"I'm hoping we got one guilt ridden psycho rather than two," Eames smirked, "I'm getting tired of seeing friends at St. Clair's."

The detectives went to work; interviewed witnesses and canvassed the neighbourhood while CSI scoured the scene. So far Jim hadn't met anyone from his childhood, but he hadn't lived here since high school. It was after five in the afternoon when the preliminaries were finished. The longshoremen started clogging the street and filling the bars in the nightly ritual called heading home.

"Let's head outta here," Jim suggested, "time to go home to the wife."

"I got an idea," Karen said, "how about you and Christie come to my place? I got a care package from my Mom and I'll never be able to eat all the food she sent over."

"I'll call, Christie likes you and I'm always up for free food" Jim laughed, "but I have to head home to feed Hank."

-Thunk- -Thunk- -Thunk-

Jim threw himself to the sidewalk, pulled Hank's harness down and slamming face first into the broken sidewalk.

"What the hell, was that a silencer," Jim shouted to Karen.

"Bettancourt," Jim heard Goren whisper.

"Karen? Karen!" Dunbar called and crawled across the sidewalk to find his partner.

"Jim," the word was a hoarse whisper, but it was all he needed to find Karen.

"I'm here." He scrambled on his hands and knees toward the voice and found her.

"My neck."

Jim's hands found Karen and traveled up her arm to her shoulders, they already felt wet and sticky. Blood.

"Hurts…."

"Hold on," Jim realized the wound was pulsing out blood. "I'm right here." Gently but firmly he pressed his hand on the wound.

"Dunbar, its Taylor, keep your hand right there." Taylor knelt beside Jim and put his hand on top of Dunbar's. "EMT's will be here soon, until then we'll keep the pressure up."

"Karen, talk to me," Jim whispered.

"What… do you want… me to say?"

"Tell me when you hear the sirens."

"I hear them now…hey… huh… you look like hell, Jimmy."

"I get that way when my friends get shot. Hey, you called me Jimmy."

"Hurts so bad," she sobbed.

"Sir," Jim jumped as a hand came down on his shoulder, "we need you to step back now."

"Come on, Jim," Alex Eames was behind him now, "Bobby and I will get you to the hospital."

* * *

"Here," Bobby Goren thrust something into Jim's hands. "Scrubs, your suit ruined."

"Thanks," Jim whispered, but didn't move. He'd cleaned the blood off his hands and face, but felt it stiff in his hair and down his neck.

"Come on, Jim, you'll scare people the way you look." Goren waited, but Jim didn't move. "Your wife's going to get your message and be here any minute. Do you want her to see you like that?"

"I don't know where to change… could you find … Damn." He threw down the scrubs. "This is so fucking humiliating."

"Jim, slow down," Alex was now beside him, "if I had my hands inside Bobby's neck I'd be spaced out too."

"Dunbar!" Marty's voice cut through the room like an ax. "I told you that you'd get Karen hurt."

Goren stepped between Russo and Dunbar; "Jim was the first one at Karen's side. He slowed the bleeding and he kept her as calm as possible until the paramedics took over. If he hadn't been there so quickly Karen would have lost a hell of a lot more blood."

Marty looked at Jim. He saw the bloody clothes, the stiff gory hair and the look of utter defeat on Dunbar's face. "I'm sorry, Jim. I was just…"

"It's okay, Marty, I just need to change my clothes." Jim stood up, "where do I do that."

"This way, Jim," Marty went to Jim's left side and tapped the back of his hand. Jim took Marty's arm and together they headed went looking for a place for him to clean up. Marty found an employee locker room where Jim could get showered and change.

"You look like a doctor in that outfit," Marty said as Jim toweled his hair dry. "Just don't go to court to try to be a brain surgeon."

"Trust me, Marty, sometimes I don't think I can do this job, let alone brain surgery."

"Don't you dare." Marty sat down beside Jim; "don't you even think you can't do this job. I know I busted your balls at first, but you can do the job. Now, let's get outta here and find out how Karen's doing?"

They headed back to the waiting room, but were stopped by a smiling E. R. doctor. "Detective Dunbar, your partner wants to talk to you."

Marty and Jim rushed to the trauma bay and Karen.

"Hey, do you need reinforcements to see me," she smiled when she saw the guys.

"I was just in the neighbourhood," Marty started.

"Shut up, Russo," Jim elbowed Marty away and to reach Karen. Gently he took her hand and traced up her arm until he found the bandages at her shoulder.

"It's only a flesh wound. Unfortunately there were arteries and veins underneath the flesh."

"So, what did the doctors say," Jim hand slipped back to hers.

"Another transfusion and an over night stay and tomorrow the doctor decide if I can go home." Karen swung her eyes to Marty. "You tell everybody at the Eighth I'm alright."

"No problem, you just get better" Russo smiled at her.

"I'm tired, I'll see you tomorrow, okay."

* * *

Jim and Hank got back home after ten that night. Christie wasn't there and Jim just didn't have the energy to find out where she was. The bedroom was just too damn far away so he collapsed on the couch. What the hell was going on? These were not professional hit; each one seemed more amateurish than the last. There was no connecting thread other than female officers in male/female teams. The how and why these women were chosen completely eluded him. Why the women, why not the men?

The home phone rang.

"Hello,"

"Jimmy, where have you been? I've been trying get hold of you for hours." Christie sounded pissed.

"Sorry, I lost my cell phone."

"I'm at Mom's, Dad's in the hospital, he was in a car accident." She was so stressed Christie didn't hear the complete and utter desolation in Jim's voice.

"He's at Columbia Presbyterian and…"

"Christie, come home."

"Jimmy, didn't you hear me. Daddy was t-boned by a gypsy cab and has a broken…"

"Karen was shot."

"Oh God… I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you, I love you so damn much." He hung up the phone and thanked god that he could rely on his wife and she could finally rely on him.

He picked up the receiver again and dialed.

"Bobby, Jim Dunbar here…. Thanks, yeah I'm glad you and Alex were there… yeah… yeah…Bob, I be going out tomorrow, so get Deakins to send someone over to pick me up. Yeah… we've got to do a 180 in our thinking. Concentrate on the male officers. I think the shooter is taking away the most important person in their professional lives. Face it, most of the male officers are either never married or divorced. I wonder if the shooter is seeing the female partner as more than a partner…"

The door to the apartment opened and Christie rushed to Jim.

"I gotta go. See you tomorrow." Jim closed the phone and turned to his wife."

Neither spoke as the simply held each other.


	10. Chapter 10

**Officer Down**

**2 + 2**

The phone rang.

"It's too early," Christie moaned as she snuggled closer to Jim.

It rang again.

"Can't we pretend yesterday never happened," she whispered as Jim's grip pulled her tighter still.

A third ring.

"But it did." He kissed the top of her head before reaching for the phone. "Hello… yes… right here… Christie, it's for you." Jim handed the phone to Christie and rolled out of bed. If the Sullivan women held true to their nature he could start the coffee and grab a quick shower before his wife got off the phone. That was when his pager went off and Jim had to find another phone.

* * *

Boscorelli pulled in front of the converted warehouse to pick up Dunbar. First he had to count widgets and whatzits in the property room and now he had to baby-sit the amazing gimp detective. What had he done to deserve this shit? The Dunbars and a big police dog came out. Hot damn was that woman gorgeous; too bad it was wasted on a bat. Hope like hell when Dunbar's fingers did the walking that they both enjoyed it. 

"Detective Dunbar," Bosco approached the couple, "I'm to take you to One PP."

"Thanks, a couple of detours first," Jim said as settled Hank into the back seat where he would soon join him and opened the front door for Christie. "First we'll drop my wife off at Columbia Presbyterian and then we'll stop at St. Clair's. If anyone asks, you were just following orders… mine."

Well, Bosco had been told Dunbar had big brass ones. Just turn him into a cabby while the detective disobeyed orders. What the hell, he just got in and drove.

* * *

"What are you doing here," Deakins barked as Dunbar and Boscorelli entered Major Case. "Shouldn't you be with your partner?" 

"Karen's parents are taking her home today. There's not a lot I can do there, so I came to work." Jim headed to Goren's desk. "Bobby, did you find my cell phone?"

"Yeah. You haven't heard the text message, have you?" Bobby said as he handed Jim the phone.

"I've got number four;

I want to shoot some more.

When I hit number ten

I'll start all over again.

"This is one sick puppy," Bosco quipped.

"Jim, go home, go to Karen's home but do not go to the Eighth." Deakins said as he looked at the lines on Dunbar's face. "Just book off for the rest the week and we'll see you Monday. Bosco, take Detective Dunbar home and see me when you get back."

Together the men headed back to the elevator.

"So, I'm taking you back, right?" Bosco asked.

"Actually, I grew up in Red Hook," Jim smirked.

"Hey, who says ya can't go home again." Bosco answered as he hit the down button.

* * *

"This reminds me of home," Bosco said he entered the area. 

"So you grew up in a crappy neighbourhood too," Jim shot back. "Was your neighbourhood used as the location of a horror story."

"Nyah, just the usual stuff, ya'know, robbery, rape, murder… really basic stuff."

"Sounds like Saturday night at Sammy's Bar. By the way, that's where we're going… Sam's Bar on Dikeman."

Bocso pointed the car down the narrow cobbled streets of Red Hook. One blue-collar neighbourhood usually looked like another, but this piece of Brooklyn had an aura all its own. The sea was not far from any spot here. Diners, bars and grocery stores, it was the stuff of any small town, tucked right in the shadow of Manhattan.

Bosco parked in front of Sam's Bar and watched Dunbar as he made his way into the place. He handled the dog as if it was a part of him. Well, guess it was, guide dogs were big, furry eyeballs. He shrugged and followed Dunbar inside. Jim entered and drifted to the left, heading to the bar he knew was there. The place smelled like he remembered of old men, old sailors, and old drunks. In his head he could smell the stale beer and tobacco smoke that always surrounded his father.

"Ya' lookin' for someone?" the bartender asked as he pushed a dirty rag across the dirty bar.

"Rocco Benicasa here?"

"Who want's ta know?"

"Duke Dunbar's kid, just here to pay Mr. Benicasa some respect." Jim sat on a barstool as he heard the man walk to the back of the bar.

Bosco settled next to him. "What now, boss man?"

"Don't drink the coffee… that pot probably hasn't been washed since it was bought."

"That's scary," Bosco shuddered, "it'll be bottled or canned for me. Hey, here comes Mr. Personality."

"Mr. Benicasa will see you," the barkeep said as he went back to mucking the bar.

"Ya need some help there, Dunbar?" Boscorelli's eyes scanned the dark, dirty bar.

"No, I know where I'm going, Bosco." Jim said as he directed Hank to the booth in the back.

"So, you're Duke's kid," the old man looked at the detective as Jim settled in the boothopposite him. "Nice dog you got there… bet he's a real help. Can I get you a beer?"

"I'm on duty, sir." Jim made sure he was deferential to the old man.

"You still a cop? God, the Dunbar men were always too god damn thick to know when to stop. How's your mother? She was too good for your father, ya know."

"She's happy, back on the farm." Jim kept the conversation light for now. "My brothers live near her… I'm the only one who stayed in town."

"I know, I like to keep track of my friends," Benicasa sipped from his glass, "and their children. Family is everything. What can this old man do for you?"

"You heard about the shooting outside Lilies yesterday. Would you know anything about it, Mr. Benicasa?"

"I'm just an old man, sitting here watching the world go by and drinking myself to death."

"With apple juice?" Benicasa started and looked up at Jim, who was tapping his nose and smirking, "Either that or you have the weirdest whiskey ever made."

"You're smarter than your poppa too." The old man put down his glass. "I'm a sub-contractor and I know other sub contractors. I was asked to…encourage a police officer to consider early retirement. I turned it down. I'm an old man with old fashioned ideas and I don't like hurting women."

"Mr. Benicasa, you have been very helpful. Still, my partner is much too young for early retirement."

"Your partner, I thought Goren's woman that the… one sub contracted for retirement."

"Alex Eames?" Jim wondered if Karen could have been mistaken for Alex. "Someone is particular about who to offer… retirement."

"Seems the buyer of our services wanted Goren to go nuts. His mother's nuts, ya know, in some asylum in Westchester I think. "

"What about Akbar or Balfor or Taylor?" Dunbar's voice took on a hard edge, "who wants them… nuts."

"Not crazy, just punished. Cops make enemies. Someone is making some dreams come true, maybe not your dreams, but someone's." Rocco took another sip, "Jimmy, who have you aggravated? You've been doing this job for how many years? How many toes have you stepped on? Who would want to hurt you? You already been hurt Jimmy, who would want to take out your seeing eye girl?"

Jim gripped the table until his knuckles went white. This old man was the neighbourhood boss, or at least he used to be. Yet in New York City crime world Rocco Benicasa just a minor cog in a big machine. Was he exaggerating his importance by feeding false information to some pushy cop or was this the real deal.

"Mr. Benicasa, this seems too cowardly for a man like you."

"Exactly, if you have a beef with a man, you deal with the man and not his woman. But I can see that sometimes it is the woman causes the problems and receives the consequences. Not this time. It was Goren they were after." Benicasa looked at Jim. "You look like your father. I liked your father; didn't trust him but I liked him. You're a brave man and I could have used someone like you, but you took after your mother in that respect. You go walk your dog at the stores. You never know what you might find there."

"Thank you." Jim slipped out off the booth.

"You should come home more often. I would make sure things were good for you."

"I make my own way, Mr. Benicasa, like every man should."

The old man smiled, "you never learned that from your father. Good luck, Detective Dunbar."

"Good bye, Mr. Benicasa," Jim felt a gnarled, arthritic hand pat his as he turned to leave.

Bosco joined him on the way out. "Where to now, Dunbar." He asked as he hit the sidewalk.

"As far away from here as possible." Jim said as he wiped his hand on his pants.

"You already are, man. You already are."

* * *

_I found out H. P. Lovecraft wrote a story "The Horror at Red Hook". Our man really did not come from a good neighbourhood._

_Thank you for all the reviews lately, they gave me a needed push to continue, but right now I have to slow down a little and complete some writing assignments for a clss I am taking. I do hate to stop because the story is flowing so well, but I want to do well with this creative writing course._

_Thanks you all, something new will appear within two weeks._


	11. Chapter 11

**Officer Down 11**

**Finding the Middle Man**

"Why do they call this place the stores? Maybe the fields or the dump, but there ain't no stores here." Bosco said as he levered himself out of the car.

"There were supposed to the grain storage and ware houses built here. Like most of the plans for Red Hook, nothing happened." Dunbar leaned back against the car, his left hand gently tracing the top of Hank's head. "Me and my brothers used to sneak here and look for scrap metal and things we could sell. The place had been picked over years before but it was something to do."

"This whole neighbourhood is picked over," Bosco scanned the bleak, empty lots in disgust.

Jim tilted his chin up; he heard the sound of someone walking on the gravel in the distance, "Bosco, get outta here."

"I can't leave you here. Deakins will have my ass."

"Only if I get hurt and I won't. Come back in about half an hour."

"You'll freeze; you might not have noticed but the wind off the ocean makes this place feel like a fucking icebox." Boscorelli was prepared to wrestle the detective into the car and leave this god damned toxic waste dump.

"If I'm not here when you get back I guarantee my body'll never be found, so, go have a coffee." Jim grasped Hank's harness and started walking along the edge of the broken asphalt that passed for a street.

"You a fucking asshole, but I don't want anything to happen to your dog. He's the best thing about you."

Jim smirked as he heard the car door slam and listened intently as Boscorelli left him behind. Turning his collar up in a vain attempt to keep the February air from chilling him to the bone Dunbar stopped and waited for his company to come. He didn't have to wait long.

"Hey, Jimmy."

"Buck? Buck Falco,"Jimdidn't expect this piece of his past to be Benicasa's contact. "Thanks for coming. What's been happening?" He made conversation as he started walking with his company beside him.

"Same old, same old; they tore down the place you grew up in; the one on Courtland where your Dad died." Buck waited for a comment, none came. "Wasn't much left of it anyways. Jenny Cotton died of cancer. I'm glad you never saw her at the end; she wasn't the girl ya dated. Tommy Benicasa was whacked."

"That I know," Jim finally answered his companion.

"Ya shoulda come to the wake or something. Mr. Benicasa had all Tommy's old gang there 'cept you."

"I was in rehab." Jim stopped walking. "I never figured you'd give in. You knew I wasn't ever going to be a made man and you said you were never gonna give in to your family."

"Yeah, but where were you, my buddy who was gonna be my moral support? First the army and then the cops; you forgot about us when you got that cushy job and that rich wife of yours."

Jim stopped and faced the man. "Do you want me to ask why you're a made man and I'm not? Did you want me to crawl back here when I worked so damn hard to get out? Right now I'm looking for the thug who decided that hurtin' women…"

"Women cops," Buck snarled.

"God damn it, Buck, I will try to keep One PP away from here if you can convince me that this isn't where this shit started. Rocco Benicasa said the target was Alex Eames. Do you think Robert Goren would just 'quietly go nuts' like the buyer wanted or did you realize that he would tear this neighbourhood apart to find out who hurt his partner. That man could turn this place into ground zero; nothing and nobody would be left standing. So instead MY PARTNER catches the bullet and thank god who ever the shooter was had lousy aim 'cause I know what rocks to look under round here. I absolutely would have done everything in my power to make some very private men's lives very public. So, justgive me the contractor. I want that asshole and the shooters, after that, I leave everybody here alone."

"I don't know you anymore, Jimmy," Buck voice was low and menacing.

"I sent away the only eye witness to this little get together. I can truthfully say I didn't see who was here and where they came from and that all I did was walk my dog at the stores. Major case thinks with my wife because my father-in-law was t-boned in Mid Town yesterday. They expect me to be there, not here. Just give me the respect I give you and yours. I want the contractor."

Buck thought carefully before he spoke. "It's some guy downtown, inside One PP."

"We figured as much. I need more."

"He works with computers, knows what's happening where and has an in with the Masucci family."

Dunbar whistled, "So this guy is mobbed up too."

"Has been for a long time and from what I hear is getting ready to retire. Wants to go out with more money than a pension so he gets his contracts and make it all look like some psycho is getting hinky." Buck put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "He decided this shit out of the blue, hitting the women. Eames and Goren were top of the list and Mack Taylor was a pain in the ass too but the Masuccis had an immediate problem. Theywanted to shut down vice in SoHo to run Chinese girls though… and I mean little girls bout nine or ten. It was because of some deal that got loused up by the black bitch Symons that they wanted to get rid of the interference… too bad for the other bitch." Buck looked at his old school mate and all he could see were the dark glasses. Smoothly he reached up and removed them, causing Jim to step back abruptly. "You really are blind, aren't you?"

"Yeah, what gave you the clue? Look, I couldn't describe you except to say I remembered a Caucasian male between 15 and 20 years old, approximately six foot tall with curly brown hair. That's my Buck Falco and he knew he could trust me." Jim flipped the crystal on his watch to check the time, "my ride will be back any minute now, so you better get outta here."

"I'll get back to you. What you want seems reasonable. I'll present it to my friends and family and if it works out I'll give it to you on free gratis. For old times sake."

"Nothing here is for old time's sake," Jim smiled his crooked smile, "let's just say it happens to get the heat turned down right now. Face it, who really likes the Masuccis?"

"In this neighbourhood, nobody," Buck said as he handed Jim back his glasses. "Don't put them back on. I always wanted your blue eyes. Seeing them now makes it real, ya know. Don't be a stranger… you'll always have friends here." With those words Buck Falco started to walk away, then turned and grabbed Dunbar in a hard, heartfelt hug. "I miss ya, Jimmy."

"Yeah," Jim held tight for a moment. "miss you too."

Bosco found Jim near the water looking for all the world like he was staring at the Statue of Liberty in the harbor.

"Get what you wanted?"

Dunbar shook his head, "Mostly. I'll know the rest real soon."

"It had better not mean standing here. I'm freezing my nuts off, so get in the car." Bosco said and poked his elbow at Dunbar so he could guide him to the car.

"Whatever you say, Officer Boscorelli," Jim smirked as he ignored the arm and got Hank to follow the man instead.

* * *

Jim sat on his park bench, thinking; waiting for Christie to come. He'd convinced Bobby to e-mail him all the suspect interviews Major Case had gathered so far and had listened to them over and over until he thought his head was going to explode. He was ninety nine percent sure he had could change suspect to perp… but ninety nine per cent wasn't good enough.

"Jimmy?" Christie's voice broke through his thoughts, "what are you doing out here without Hank? It's freezing."

"Clearing my head and I didn't want to be cited for cruelty to animals." He shifted to the right and patted the bench. "Sit down; I cleaned off the ice and snow just for you."

"My knight is frost covered armor."

Jim could hear the smile in Christie's voice as she slid next to him. He pulled her tight to his side and leaned his head unto hers.

"Christie, do we have any friends? Not lip service friends or acquaintances, but real party down, bail out of jail, do anything for them friends."

Christie thought for a minute. "There's Walter and Karen and Clay… "

"Clay?" Jim sat up straight, "I wouldn't bail him out of jail."

"But I would," she squeaked and slapped Jim on the shoulder.

"That's just it, there's your friends and my friends and very damn few our friends." Jim took her hand in his, "I was in the old neighbourhood today and met some people from my past. I don't belong there anymore, but it made me realize that I really don't see anyone except at work; your work or my work."

Christie sighed, "I try to get you to parties, but you just are never happy when I do."

"Those aren't parties; they're business meetings with white wine spritzers. I can't go out with the guys and play pool or bowl anymore, but when the detectiveall came over to our place to bang out ideas it felt like a party to me. Was it horrible to you?"

"It was a police business meeting with beer and pizza, but I liked when we all met at the Apolo for lunch. That was fun, even if I subjected you to the California clients." Christie took his hand in hers and slipped off his gloves so he could feel her, skin to skin. "How about a compromise, we have a couple or two over for dinner and expand our circle of friends a little at a time."

"Yeah, I could take Clay in small doses. Course, I might poison his food in small doses too." Jim pulled Christie's hand to his mouth, kissed it and then enveloped it in both his hands. "Double dating, what a concept. Let's go home."


	12. Chapter 12

Time to start pulling all the strings together. I hope to have the story finished very soon.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed me so far, you make me work harder and that is a good thing. I hope in the end I deserve all the good things you've said.

**Officer Down 12**

**Change Partners Again**

He took the subway into work, strap hanging and counting the stops to One PP. The click, click, click of the wheels on the rails was almost hypnotic and gave his mind a sound palette to work on.

This is number one

And the fun has just begun

Jim couldn't help but tack on the suggestive little tidbit, "roll me over, lay me down and do it again."

That old Army chestnut still stuck in his mind. Dad would sing the Korean version when he was in the happy drunk stage. The old men at Sam's bar sang the World War Two rendition when they swilled Four Roses and Blatz for breakfast. Even he had sung a filthy set of lyrics to the same song in the Gulf… same song, different war. The song had never stayed the same. Now thesuspect kept improvising for each take down. He was muddying the evidence and throwing everyone off because he wanted then to think he was deranged. Was he trying to disguise his age? If he was, it was working. Goren and Eames, Benson and Stabler were masters at profiling and the suspect knew it because he knew them. Now he used their skills against them. He greeted them in the hallways, rode the elevators with them; hell, probably shared coffee with Deakins and Tunney. And he laughed at them all the way to the bank when he took payment for taking an officer down. The suspect was a manipulator, an infiltrator and a brother cop.

And Jim Dunbar was going to bring him down or die trying.

Hank was now as surefooted at One Police Plaza as he was at the Eighth, guiding Jim skillfully through the crowds and to the bank of elevators that would bring them to Major Case. Today Jim answered the scattered hellos with nods and grunts because his mind was shifting between counting steps and working on finding his suspect. After going over and over the files last night he had narrowed it down to three possibilities and now he needed help. It never got any easier to ask for help, especially with people he barely knew; so Jim waited until he was at work, surrounded by the other detectives, to see just who would be right for this.

"Hey," Boscorelli said aloud, "Dunbar off in a little world of his own."

"Give the guy a break," Olivia Benson scanned the uniformed officer and found him wanting; "he had to put up with you yesterday. Where were you yesterday? I had filing that needed to be done."

Bosco gave Benson a sideways glance, "his majesty over there had me ferry him all the hell over Red Hook yesterday."

This peaked Olivia's interest. "Red Hook? That is the ass end of nowhere."

"That is the old stomping ground for Dunbar over there. I might'a been the one with the eyes, but he was a better guide that a map. First Sam's Bar and then the Stores, I swear if I gotta stand out in a vacant lot and wait for Dunbar to get all touchy feely with some local yokel again I'll go back to the property room in Bed Stuy."

"I think," Benson mused out loud, "that I don't know enough about Jim Dunbar. This is a good time to remedy the situation." She sat down at his desk and booted up his computer. "Beat it, Bosco. I've got work to do."

* * *

"Do I smell wood burning, or is Jimmy Dunbar thinking?"

"Hello, Olivia," Jim moved his face towards Benson's voice, "anything I can help you with?"

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." Benson pulled a chair over the Dunbar's desk to see what was on the computer. "Your computer doesn't have a monitor."

"Wow, I wonder why." Jim ran his fingers over the grid that brought up the Braille text for him and decided to drop the sarcasm. "Actually, the computer's new and this is more expensive than a monitor."

"And it makes it a lot harder to read over your shoulder. Well, I freely admit I've got nothing to go on, but I think you've got a something that is fitting together."

"Yeah, I think I do, but I need a pair of eyes right now and I hadn't figured who to ask… so I decided to wait for some smart detective to notice something was going on."

"Don't wait for Goren, once he's got an idea he works like a dog with a bone. So, I volunteer my eyes, you just have to take the rest of me because they're attached."

"Good, because you're gonna be doing some running around too." Jim pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. "You might want to write this down."

* * *

Greta Van Dam checked the phone when she returned to her desk in records, "What the hell does that bunch want now."

"What bunch?"

"Those clowns in Major Case, they want more files, some dating back over ten years." She turned back to her keyboard to start calling up information requested.

"I'll get that for you."

"Nyah, can't let you. Tunney has specifically request in his usual 'I'm the boss' style that I am to be the only one to retrieve and relay this information to Dunbar the Wonder Cop." Greta looked up from her monitor. "Hey, where are you going?"

"For a smoke."

"Just don't get caught," she waved him off as she accessed the database. Then a thought popped into her head as she looked at his desk. There, right in front, stood a big 'Thank You for Not Smoking' sign… a reward from everybody in records when he had finally been cigarette free for one year. Oh, shit.

* * *

"Well, I got them," Benson said as he dumped the files on Dunbar's desk. "Department files, armed forces files, phone records for office, personal and cell phones and the scars from Tunney for requesting these damn things are handled to your very special specifications. Now, what are we looking for?"

"Anything, no matter how small that might be connected to the Masucci family." Jim smirked as he ran his hands over the stack on his desk. Then he picked up the top file, put on his headphones, opened his scanner and started checking the papers he found inside. Benson watched quietly for a few minutes before starting in on the next file. Soon they had what they needed to start the next round of interrogations.

* * *

Olivia walked into the community relations office looking for Jessica Plant. Plant was in the third cubicle, phone clamped tight to her ear with shoulder, fingers flying over her keyboard as she tried to explain the numbers on the screen to the voice stabbing her ear. She smiled when she saw Olivia and tried to disengage herself from the whiner on the line, but it wasn't going to be easy. Benson waited patiently until Plant dropped the receiver into its cradle and quickly unplugged the phone.

"Damn," Jessica smirked, "don't you just hate it when you get cut off like that?"

"With all my heart," Olivia grinned back.

"What can I do for you," the other woman leaned back and motioned Olivia into an empty chair.

"When my partner and I interviewed you the other day we never asked you about your brother, Philip Bartilucci."

"Oh god, I was hoping this wouldn't come up." Plant threw her hands into the air, "that ass is going to haunt me the rest of my life. Okay, here's the story. My brother, Phil, was the first person in my family to go to university. He became a lawyer and seemed to get out of the old neighbourhood. My parents were so damn proud of him, the greedy prick."

"No love lost there, I see," Benson shook her head.

"None what so ever," the other woman sighed. "When Phil was arrested for money laundering my parents couldn't believe their golden boy was nothing but a common thief. Pop mortgaged the house to make bail which Phil jumps to god knows where. Pop worked himself to death trying to keep that house and Momma died less than a month after. Personally, I hope Phil the pill rots in hell."

"I think I can see that working for the Masuccis isn't a priority for you." Olivia said as she got ready to leave.

"Only as a blunt force proctologist" Plant quipped as she reconnected her phone. It rang immediately.

* * *

Jim and Hank walked into the equity office at human resources with the practiced ease. He'd been here before and knew he'd be back again.

"What can I do for you?" He could hear the smile in the secretary's voice.

"I'll take it from here," Moe Jacques bounced out of his office and clamped his hand on Jim's shoulder. "Detective Dunbar, I was just reviewing your file. So you're going to be writing the sergeants exam. Come on in and we'll discuss the testing procedures."

Jim smiled and seated himself as he listened carefully to Jacques. He wanted the man to be as comfortable as possible during this talk. "Actually, I've been put through the wringer about how the test is going to go down."

"What do you expect; you were supposed to be a temporary problem. Do you like the new computer? After the powers that be finally figured out you weren't going away they let us invest in the best computer for you."

"If nothing else, it confuses my partner." Jim smiled and settled Hank at his feet. "She misses looking over my shoulder and reading what I have on the monitor."

"Tell Betancourt its time to learn Braille," Moe shot back.

"I'm just glad she wasn't hurt too badly when that sniper used her for target practice." Jim hand naturally slipped down to rest on the top of Hank's head. "I didn't get to interview you about these shootings. You got Goren and Eames, didn't you?"

"I still don't understand how I got in their radar. That Goren freaks me out every time I see him. He's hinkier that most perps."

"I've been working in Major Case all this week. There had to be something that tripped his radar, other wise Bobby stays focused."

"Like a dog with a bone," Jacques scanned the man in front of him. "I figure it's because I know a lot of secrets about a lot of people. Wouldn't matter, might as well say this is safer than a priest in a confessional."

"Yeah, I know that and I know you haven't been on the streets in years, but I need another set of eyes right now. Don't you dare laugh."

Moe Jacques shifted in his seat. "No, I promise I won't. Honestly I'm flattered that you think I might be able to help with this case."

"Good," Jim withdrew a list from his jacket pocket, "do any of these names warrant a second look."

Jacques rose when he took the paper and leaned back slowly as he read the short list of names. He wasn't sure what he was looking for or what he could bring to the investigation when he stopped.

"This one, I've been wondering about him for quite a while now," Jacques said, "but I hate pointing my finger at an innocent man. As far as I know he has doesn't even color outside the lines."

Jim stood, leaned forward and reached for Jacques shoulder. He had to convince this man that this was a necessary step. "Everybody'sinnocent until provenguilty. I just want to make sure nothing slips by us… too many people have been hurt. We need to stop this before somebody gets killed." He waited and then laughed a bitter little laugh. "I can't tell if you're nodding or shaking your head. I need an answer."

Jacques shrugged. "Yeah, I'm nodding. I really don't want to say anything, but I will. I think you should look behind door number two."

Jim slapped his thigh to get Hank up and ready to go.

"Thanks," he said, "I thought it was him too."


	13. Chapter 13

**Officer Down 13**

**The Going Gets Tough**

Christine Sullivan-Dunbar

Associate Fashion Editor

"That looks cluttered... too many names," Clay Simmons said when he dropped one of Christie's new business card on her desk.

"Well, it will only be correct for about a year or so and then I'm changing it to C. S. Dunbar, Fashion Editor." Clay's head snapped up so fast that Christie took two steps back. "That's because you'll be Editor at Large."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he moaned as he rolled his eyes.

"Well, you deserve it." Christie folded into her desk chair, re-arranged the items on top of her desk and then scanned her office. "I like it here. I like the privacy and the view, but I like your office better. So as you continue your 'meteoric rise to the top' I'll slip into that spot when you vacate it."

"You're been reading too many of the trade journals." Clay rounded Christie's desk and leaned toward her. "I may have very different plans."

"How different," Christie asked as she tried to put more space between her and her boss.

"I've been asked to make the big jump from print to broadcasting. Rappaport and Arthur have offered me a sweetheart deal running the publicity department of R-dot A-dot Productions. There are offices in L. A., New York, Vancouver, Toronto and Sydney and I get to pick my own personal staff... my own entourage. What do you think?" Clay's eyes were almost glassy just imagining it.

"I think I could be C. S. Dunbar, Fashion Editor and then Editor at Large a lot sooner than I ever believed."

"I could make it very difficult for you to stay." Clay's voice suddenly had a hard, unpleasant edge to it.

Then the phone rang and Christie grabbed it like it was a life line. Clay watched her face shift from professional to stunned to completely aghast.

"It's Jim, isn't it?"

"There's a car waiting for me downstairs," she mumbled as she grabbed her purse and coat.

"I'm coming with you," Clay pulled open the door and propelled Christie to the elevators. He shook his head. That damn showboat of a prick cop husband didn't deserve his wife. If Jim Dunbar wasn't as lucky as last time this beautiful woman was going to need someone to help pick up the pieces. Why not him?

Clay kept hold of Christie'shand in the elevator, through the lobby and out the door to the sedan with the uniform officer holding open the door. Christie got in and slid over for Clay but the officer stopped him.

"I'm accompanying Mrs. Dunbar," Simmons said as he tried to push his way inside.

"I was told Mrs. Dunbar and no one else," the man replied.

"I am not letting that woman go through the torture of a hospital waiting room alone no matter what the NYPD wants."

At that the uniformed officer slammed the door shut, turned and shot Clay Simmons point blank in the gut.

"Mr. Masucci said only Mrs. Dunbar."

* * *

Deakins ran out of his office. "Where's Dunbar?'

Eliot Stabler looked up, "he and Olivia went to double check a lead."

"Logan, Stabler… find him and get him here now! Do not let him out of your sight.

Bobby, Alex… I want you at 5th and34th Street, some one grabbed Dunbar's wife in front of the Empire State Building and he was dressed as a beat cop."

"What!" Everyone turned to see Jim Dunbar and Olivia Benson walk in. "What happened to Christie?" Deakins tried to take Jim's arm to calm him, only to have it violent shaken away.

"What happened to my wife?" Jim hissed through his tightly clenched jaw.

"Security on site said a police officer came to bring Christie to St. Clair's Hospital, said you had been injured on the job. When one Clay Simmons attempted to accompany her the suspect shot him. Simmons was pronounced dead at the scene."

Jim seemed to visibly deflate. Was this what happened when he was shot? Was that why Christie didn't think twice about going off with a stranger? And now Clay Simmons was dead because he wanted to help Christie.

This time Deakins managed to touch Dunbar and he gently pushed Jim into the chair Benson managed to slip behind him. "Security got the plate and badge numbers, both were legit. Someone accessed them both from inside One PP."

"It's Bellov, he knows we made him," Jim shook his head. "Olivia, we have to get back to records."

"Dunbar," Deakins cut in, "You're off the case as of now. I'll have Boscorelli take you home."

"No!" Jim shot out of the chair. "We've got to check this now. Come with me if you want but I'm been chasing this lead all morning and if I'm right there's a lot of cases pending on what we find. I found the suspect; let me take it just one step farther."

Captain Deakins went with Dunbar and Benson to records. Greta Van Dam looked up as they entered.

"He's gone," she dropped her eyes from the trio before her. She suspected the worst since Ira had run off this morning.

"Ira Bellov? When did he leave?" Jim demanded.

"9:30 this morning, right after I started hunting for files for you, if you're Detective Dunbar. God, who else could you be but Dunbar."

Olivia snapped on a pair of latex gloves and started checking out Bellov's desk. Deakins hit the intercom on Van Dam's desk and soon had Boscorelli and Logan heading for Bellov's locker and a prowl car set off to the apartment on Ocean Parkway.

"It's too late," Jim said, "Bellov's got a three hour lead to get his shit together and hit the road." He stretched his neck until it cracked like a knuckle, and then went very still. "But he didn't. Bellov didn't hit the road. We have to figure out why he grabbed Christie to know where he is. Where she is, God damn it where is she?"

Jim turned and lashed out with his fist, missing the absent Ira Bellov while making unexpected contact with the wall.

"Damn it, Dunbar," Deakins grabbed Jim's arm, "where the hell is your head. God, you've broken every finger in that hand. Now I've really got to get you to a hospital."

"They'll only tape it up and the on site nurse can do that. I'm not leaving."

"Maybe not this building, but you are coming back to Major Case with me. Olivia, get back to me when you're done." Deakins watched Dunbar grimace and cradle his right hand with his left. Without his hands Jim Dunbar was doubly blind.

* * *

Christie wasn't sure where she was. After she watched Clay crumple to the sidewalk she shut her eyes and kept them shut as she was transferred from one car to another to a van. Her purse went missing somewhere along the line. 

'I'll have to cancel all my credit cards, if I survive this,' she thought, 'Jimmy will do that, I guess. Oh Jimmy, things were just starting to get better.'

* * *

JIm Dunbar couldn't type, you needed eyes to hunt and peck at a keyboard; the touch typed he had so carefully learned was all he could manage. He was also a right handed reader. God, he hadn't felt this blind since Hank was hijacked. Jim's left hand drifted down to Hank's head to reassure himself his canine partner was still there. Bosco was right; Hank was the best part of him, always patient and steady. Hell, he'd could be patient and steady too. He just have to use left hand and read slower. 

"Jim, I came as soon as I could," gentle fingers covered his right hand.

"Karen," Jim wanted to jump up and grab her and thank God she had appeared. Instead he reached his left hand over and squeezed her fingers. "Thanks for coming."

"That's what partners are for. Okay, what do we do now?"

Carolyn Barek came up to the pair, "First, tell me everything you remember about Bellov's apartment. Then take this jack ass home."

Jim heard Karen's snort of laughter. Damn, she knew him too well.

"Okay,' she started, "from the entrance the living room was on the right, closet on the left. Forward on the right were two more doors, probably bedrooms, a kitchen straight ahead and a door on the left, probably the bathroom and the furnishings were of good quality, but older."

"Big place for just one guy," Barek said as she jotted Karen's description down.

"It's probably rent controlled. Bellov's been there for years."

Jim tapped his desk with his left hand. "He offered us coffee. Was he drinking any?"

"Not sure, he didn't have a cup in his hand."

"The whole apartment smelled of coffee and cigarettes."

Karen thought back, "Bellov doesn't smoke, he had one of those smoke free apartment signs on his entryway door. And he had to clear newspapers off the sofa like he didn't know they were there. He wasn't living alone in that place."

"I think you had better contact the Israeli Army, I bet Noah Bellov isn't a part of it anymore." Jim let out a shuddering breath.

"Time to get you home," Barek said.

"You know I don't carry a gun anymore," Jim said with a deadly calm. "If I leave here I will absolutely find my way to Ira Bellov and kill him with my bare hands."

"I'd believe him, he always does what he says he will," Karen shook her head as she watched her partner's deadly stillness.

* * *

Christie could smell the ocean. 

She felt a little bubble of hysterical laughter well up in her as she imagined her feet in a tub of cement. Then she could here arguing outside the van.

"Make up your fucking mind. Whadda ya want?"

"I don't want anybody to find the body."

"I can't keep Benicasa outta this."

"You fucking guinea bastard…"

Then there was scuffling, the sounds of punches landing and grunts of pain. Another gunshot made Christie jump and then pull herself into a fetal position.

"pleasegodpleasegodpleasegod… I don't want to die."

The van door was opened. She only pulled her head further down and kept her eyes shut tight.

"Yeah, you stay just like that." A low, gravelly voice commanded, "Mr. Benicasa has plans for you."

The van door slammed shut.


	14. Chapter 14

I have been tearing my hair out because I want this to keep going and the end is near. I like writing Alex Eames and Mike Logan far too much. I think both would work with Jim Dunbar very well, but he belongs at the Eighth for now. Thank you all for your patience with my poor meandering story.

**Officer Down 14**

**Where All Roads Lead**

"Just who we looking for," Boscorelli whined as he nosed the unmarked car unto Ocean Parkway.

"Ira Bellov or his son, Noah Bellov, or better yet, both of them," Logan drawled at his unwilling chauffeur.

"I always liked this neighbourhood," Bosco revealed when he parked the car. "That movie, My Favorite Year; I can tell you the address of Bengie's mother just by the building they used, about a block north of here."

"I didn't know you were a movie nut," Logan replied.

"Nyah, Ma and whoever was Ma's boyfriend then, Lenny I think; would watch old movies all the time so we all watched old movies all the time."

Mike smiled. "Could be worse, my Lenny used to sing show tunes when he thought he could get away with it. Actually, he had a pretty good voice."

Together they entered the once elegant building, making their way to the fourth floor and Bellov's door. After drawing their guns Logan tried to knock, but the door was already ajar and opened with the slightest touch.

"Bellov," Mike called, "this is the police. Come out with your hands up!"

There was no answer. Gingerly Bosco checked the left side as Logan scanned the right. They found Bellov sitting on the kitchen floor, handcuffed to the radiator. Blood was seeping sluggishly from thin, shallow knife wounds extending from the man's wrists to his elbows.

"Shit. Logan. He's dead."

"Yeah," Mike holstered his gun as he flipped open his cell phone. "Whoever did this wanted it to take a long time.

Bosco crouched down to examine the body. Something protruded slightly from Bellov's pale lips. Carefully Bosco eased out the edge of a linen handkerchief. "Whoever did this made sure the old bastard couldn't complain loud enough to get noticed."

"I'm calling Deakins and CSI and then I'm backing outta here. There is no way I'm gonna give an attorney a way to say I'm the reason for reasonable doubt."

Bosco shook this head, "I hear ya, man, but this time I doubt you gotta worry."

* * *

Jim Dunbar was sitting at a table in the lunchroom. With his glasses tossed carelessly aside and his jacket and tie draped over the chair back he looked as disheveled as Karen had ever seen him. 

"Jim, what are you supposed to be doing now?" she asked him while keeping her voice soft.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me what to do?"

"If you're going to stay here turn on your phone, drink your coffee and believe Christie's going to be all right."

"Why bother," he whispered.

"Stop that! This is something I thought I'd never see, the great Jim Dunbar giving up."

Jim's head shot up. "Get real, Karen, We've had no ransom demands, no sightings and no word about Bellov. I don't know why he grabbed her, but the only thing he would want to do with her is…" He didn't finish because he heard Captain Deakins calling his name.

"Dunbar," the Captain approached and made sure he was steady and calm before he sat down between Jim and Karen. "I've got some bad news. Logan and Boscorelli are at Ira Bellov's apartment in Brooklyn. Ira Bellov's was murdered there and his body has just been transported to the morgue but it's pretty obvious he bled to death. Noah Bellov and three of his buddies went AWOL from the Israeli Army. INS reported they entered this country via Montreal and evidence puts him at his father's place. He and his friends are at large. Jim, I'm sorry but there is no sign of your wife."

Dunbar sighed, "I didn't think there would be."

"Don't give up yet, Dunbar. We haven't stopped looking."

Jim stood up and reached for Hank. "I need some air and Hank needs a walk. I'll be back. Hell, where else am I gonna go."

"Do you want me to come along," Karen rose to join her partner.

"Nyah, I'm fine." Hereplied as he headed for his overcoat and out the door.

Jim had just crossed the street in front of One PP when he heard a familiar voice.

"Jimmy, I've been freezing my balls off waitin' for you here."

"Duke? What the hell are you doing this side of the East River?"

"I got a present for you." Jim felt a heavy briefcase drop by his feet. "What the fuck did you do to your hand?"

"Had an argument with a wall, Duke, I got a lot on my mind and I'm not in the mood to be playing guessing games. What is going on?"

"Mr. Benicasa wants you to now he has friends here; his bosses have even more friends here. They all like things to run very peacefully. When someone decides to play stupid games, it doesn't sit well with Mr. Benicasa or his bosses. So, it has been decided to take care of things."

"I don't have time for this shit, Duke."

"Jimmy, you get your bosses to check out this stuff and you'll see what everybody should see. Listen, I'll get one of those boys in blue to come over and carry it for ya. I got this here… aversion to police stations, especially that big one over there." Duke put his hand on Jim's shoulder, "I'll see you tonight, around nine."

With that, Duke was gone. Jim stood perfectly still, shaking, wondering just what was going to happen next.

"Detective Dunbar," a voice cut into his thoughts; "some guy said you needed help."

"Yes, I have to get this briefcase to CSI. Call Major Case and tell Captain Deakins that new evidence will be in the labs waiting for him."

* * *

Bobby Goren shut his notebook with a snap. The slush and foot traffic had already obliterated the chalk line that marked the spot Clay Simmons died. 

"That's just about it," Alex said what Bobby was thinking.

"Why take Christie Dunbar?" Bobby mused out loud. "She had absolutely nothing to do with any of this.

"Except that she was married to one of the detectives on the list. We know he and Karen interviewedthe main suspect and thatsuspect had a direct pipeline to allkinds of information on all of us. To bad she's gone."

"Don't talk about her in the past tense yet. We might get lucky this time."

"Bobby," Alex sighed, "this whole thing has been one big sadistic game for someone and I doubt it's finished."

"Can't tell the players without a score card."

"Maybe that's why nothing has been making sense here. Cause it's not supposed to make sense. Someone is crazy like a fox here." Alex slapped Bobby on the arm. "Let's get back, my feet feel like ice cubes."

* * *

It was Mack Taylor who opened the briefcase on a light table in the lab. The outside had already been check for finger prints and now the contents were going to be photographed, dusted and popped into evidence bags. Whenever he looked up the serious face of Karen Betancourt was there, watching his every move. 

"I'm going make four copies of everything in here," He told her. "I'll send one up to Major Case, one to the forensic accountants, one to the Organized Crime squad and one to records. We'll keep the originals here."

"Can you tell me exactly what they are?" Karen stared over Taylor'swork areaat the papers.

"Bank statements from at least ten different banks in four different countries, like Swiss and Cayman Islands accounts, and incorporation papers for business and all kinds of wonderful stuff no one wanted to see the light of day."

"Someone wanted the sun to shine on this stuff. I just can't understand why they gave it to Jim."

"Maybe they were so ignorant they figured he couldn't I.D. them?" Mack checked Karen's face when he said this.

"He's blind, he's not stupid." Karen just shook her head. Still, the same thought had been nagging at her since Jim had brought the briefcase in. She and Jim had talked to Bellov, they had raced to the shooting in Red Hook the same day, but it was deductions that lead Jim to the man. Bellov wouldn't have made it to Red Hook in time to… hit her. Karen's hand crept up to the bandage on her throat. It couldn't have been that arthritic man with the twisted fingers on the trigger, but what about his hot headed soldier son. Why did it seem simple now? Even if it was, why be lead by the nose straight to him. This was getting hinkier and hinkier.

* * *

Olivia walked into the lunchroom and sat down at the table with Jim. 

"It is possible to get caffeine poisoning," she quipped as she pushed the empty cardboard cups to one side.

"Ask me in about an hour," Jim answered before he took another sip of the brackish liquid in his hand,

"Seems Bellov was headed out of Dodge. He had quite the bank account at Bank Leumi on Broadway and 38th that was accessed mainly in Israel. I guess he'd been planning a well endowed retirement for a long time and decided it was time to go."

Jim lowered his coffee, "but Noah ruined all those plans. I guess that's whathappens when your only son beats Palestinian girls to death with a rifle butt. "

"Yeah, first Noah Bellov screws up all those careful plans and then he accessed Daddy's account in Toronto, bought a car and drove here via Montreal."

"Took the long way here, didn't he," Jim's monotone was getting scary.

"Jim, someone will make contact soon. Everything is falling into place."

Eliot joined the pair in the lunchroom and thanked God that Olivia was there and he didn't have to face Dunbar alone. "Jim, Livy, the body of Dov Meier was found in the Stores in Red Hook. He was one of Noah Bellov's known associates from the Israeli Army."

"Any sign of Christie?"

"No, but that doesn't mean anything," Eliot tried to sound hopeful.

"So, for all we know she's being held by some psycho who thinks nothing of killing little girls and his own father. That makes me feel real hopeful."

* * *

The van stopped. Christie began to mentally fit those cement overshoes again when the driver's door opened and closed in quick succession. She kept her eyes screwed shut when the back door opened. 

Time seemed to pass slowly… one Mississippi… two Mississippi… and then something was thrown at her. She screamed as the door was shut and footsteps retreated from the van… three Mississippi… four Mississippi… nothing.

Slowly, Christie opened one eye. It was her purse; they threw her purse at her. She grabbed the bag and dumped the contents on the floor, her wallet, her make up, her cell phone… it was all there. Christie shoveled her stuff back in the bag and waited. If nothing happened in five minutes, she was getting out of the van, but first she was going to have a nice little nervous break down. She deserved it."

* * *

Eames was driving back to One PP when Goren's cell phone rang. Bobby had it to his ear before the second ring sounded. 

"Alex, someone has tried to access one of Bellov's bank accounts at an ATM on Mulberry south of Canal. We can be there is less than ten minutes."

"Is there any way they can hold the suspect?"

"Not sure, but he's on the ATM camera and seems to be waiting patiently for the machine to spit out money."

Alex laughed as she wheeled the car around, "I'd wait patiently for anything that might spit money out at me."

* * *

"Damn it, I don't like being called Morty," Mordechai Bergen swore at Noachum Albrus. 

"It's time to be American, Morty; it's time to fit in. I rather like being called Neil. Short and strong, it is a good name for here."

Bergen sneered at his partner, "are you going to say that when you get deported. If you keep dressing like those meshuggneh gangsters from movies you will be noticed and arrested."

"Don't you think I look like Al Pacino… young Pacino in Scarface?" Albrus said as he preened in the reflection of the bank's plate glass windows.

"I think you'd look a lot more like a gangster wearing an orange jumpsuit." Alex Eames sneered as she put her gun against the deserter's neck.

Bergen Turned and ran… straight at Bobby Goren.

"Where are you going, friend." Goren smiled as he twisted the Israeli around and slapped on handcuffs, "I have so much I want to ask you."

* * *

"I do not know where he is?" Bergen spat out. "He is getting another job for us. We are body guards." 

"Funny," Alex said as she shuffled the documents in the INS file, "you are currently absent without leave from your position on the Golan Heights. Last time I heard, you couldn't get a green card while wanted for desertion."

Bergen smiled a tight, knowing smile, "I learned this from American television; I want a lawyer. I won't talk without a lawyer."

"Oh well, my partner is talking to your friend right now. He may say something we want to hear… and if he doesn't I'm sure someone will free up a couple of seats on the next flight to Tel Aviv for you."

"I want a lawyer," the man chanted like a mantra.

Alex simply shook her head and left the interrogation room. Deakins had watched the whole scene through the two way mirror and just shook his head.

"How's Bobby doing?"

The captain rolled his eyes. "These two must have teethed on cop shows. He's getting the same line from the other one. Unless something shakes loose we're going have to cut them loose and send them back to Israel."

"Maybe we're sending in the wrong person… maybe we should send in Betancourt."

"Alex, you have some of the best ideas." Deakins said as he turned. "She's still with Dunbar, I'll get her myself."

* * *

"This is it, Jim, I'm taking you home," Olivia insisted, "I'll stay with you and we'll get a pizza and I'll beat you over the head until you relax." 

Dunbar just nodded. He was making a mental 'to do' list for when Christie was found. It was now three o'clock… five hours with no news. Jim didn't want to believe the worst, but he'd been a cop too long. Then, his phone rang.

Mechanically, he filled it open, "Dunbar."

"Jimmy, could you come get me. I'm afraid to move."

"Christie," Jim whispered, "tell me where you are, I'll find you."


	15. Chapter 15

**Officer Down 15**

Sorry I took so long, I wanted the pacing as fast and that made me slow. I thank you for your patence.

**At the Breaking Point**

If a white cane could be a lethal weapon, Jim Dunbar's was that and more. There was no gentle swish from side to side, but a slashing arc as he caromed down the halls making his way to the Major Case Unit. All the time he had been trying to soothe his wife and find out where the hell she was; Stabler and Benson had been making enough noise to drown Christie out. At first they attempted to get a CSI officer to the lunchroom. Finally, the SVU partners had bundled Jim down to the Forensics Unit without one thought of Hank and how much Jim depended on his dog. Hell, he'd rather have Hank at his side than these two bozos who didn't tell him where he was or what was happening to him. God save him from helpful idiots! Finally it was Mack Taylor, behaving like he had half a brain, who took over for Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dummer.Taylor started to search for Christie Dunbar using the GPS signal in her cell phone. Christie's phone battery was dying, but they had managed to track it down to signal towers near the Leffert's Boulevard and JFK Airport. Jim had barely managed to say sit tight and I love you before the phone died. Only Taylor's quick reflexes saved Jim from smashing his hand again. Now, before he exploded. Jim needed to find Hank… and then Christie.

* * *

Karen Betancourt was about to enter the interrogation room when Jim walked in. He looked like he was ready to spit nails. She actually felt sorry for Hank as he guided the man inside. 

"What have we got?" hissed Jim.

"I thought you were off this," she shot back.

"Yeah, just like you… what have we got?"

"Mordechai Bergon, age twenty two, late of the Israeli Army and known associate of Noah Bellov, picked up trying to access the checking account of Ira Bellov, deceased. We can hold him on possession of stolen property with the bank card, accomplice in the homicide of Ira Bellov and if all else fails, hold him for Israel on the charge of desertion from the army." Karen slapped the file closed. "No matter what, we got him for at least forty eight hours."

She looked at the man sitting behind the table. He looked so young. Bergon had probably started his mandatory army service the day after he finished school. Israel could be a violent place. Karen shook her head; the same thing could be said about half the neighborhoods in New York. Bergon had had a choice and he chose crime.

'I'm about to start, care to join me, partner?" she smirked as she headed for the door.

"Lead on," Jim settled Hank by the door and followed her into interrogation room one.

"Do you recognize me, Mr. Bergon" Karen dropped a file on the table and settled in the chair opposite the man.

"Should I?" Bergon sized up Dunbar and Betancourt with a quick glance and snorted.

Jim cut in, "Not really, I doubt your aim is that good. You probably had trouble concentrating on anything except my partner's shoulder. Or was that Detective Eames shoulder you were aiming at?"

Bergon ignored Jim, leaned towards Karen and sputtered. "What I aim at, I hit. If I had been sent to…" Bergon stopped, sat back and drew in a long calming breath. "I want a lawyer."

"Someone has coached you very well in the ways of American justice and what we share with the state of Israel… like capital punishment." Betancourt smiled. "I bet knowing Mr. Ira Bellov has helped you greatly. Would you like him here as well as your public defender?"

"Bellov would help me. He knows I am an innocent and a friend of his son." Bergon looked almost smug.

"I'll see what I can do." Karen left the file behind as she and Jim exited the room to join Deakins, Eames and Goren on the other side of the two way mirror. Bergon had the seemingly forgotten file open before the partners could utter a single word. Pictures from the apartment on Ocean Parkway and the autopsy showed with Technicolor accuracy the horror of Ira Bellov's death. Bergon's handsdropped the photos as through the blood would jump off and stain his fingers.

"You! I know you are there!" The man jumped up and screamed at the mirror, "I had nothing to do with this! Nothing!"

Alex turned to Bobby, "I think he just blinked."

* * *

"Mr. Albrus, I wish I had better news for you, but it seems that you've lost a good friend." Eames tried to sound sincere, but failed. 

Noachum Albrus sneered at Eames and Goren, "A friend? I have no friends here, only business acquaintances."

"I'm sorry; I was lead to believe you know a Dov Meier." Bobby said as he scanned the paperwork in front of him.

"Of course I know Dov, he is my nephew."

"Your nephew," Alex drawled, "you must come from a big family. How could he be your nephew?"

"His mother is my oldest sister and there are seventeen years from her to me. Miriam married at sixteen and Dov came only five days me."

"It must be nice, a big close family." Bobby snapped the file shut. "It will make everything so much easier for the medical examiner now that we have a blood relative able to identify the body."

* * *

Dunbar circled the table. With each orbit Jim stopped and leaned into Bergon as if studying him under a microscope. 

"Gruesome pictures," drawled as his hands sought them out on the table. When his fingers told him one of the slick, color sides were down Jim would turn it over. He felt Bergon flinch each time the brutal scene was revealed.

"When is my lawyer getting here?" Bergon's bravado was fading fast.

"Soon," Karen answered from her spot by the door. She was enjoying the show. Jim was unnerving the suspect with deceptive ease.

"We're gonna have to cut you loose," Jim carelessly threw out as he again flipped a crime scene photo over. "The Israeli Army has graciously decided not to undermine this ongoing investigation. So, unless you have something for us you'll be walking out the front door and into the cameras of the press. No more anonymity for you, Mr. Bergon. Everyone will know who you are… and where you are. How does it feel to have a nice big bull's eye right in the middle of your forehead 'cause I'm making sure it's there for everyone to see?"

"I demand to use the back entrance." Bergon sounded petulant, he was grasping at straws.

Jim slammed his left fist into the table. "No! You go out front. You'll be a sniper's wet dream." Dunbar tilted his head to Bergon, "and you know all about snipers, don't you, Mordechai."

Bergon lowered his head in defeat, "What do you want to know?"

* * *

Bergon was back in holding, waiting for his one way trip to Ryker's. The public defender could not cajole him into recanting his confession. Bergon had decided behind bars was safer than outside where that psychopath Noah Bellov and his business associates could find him. 

Noachum Albrus screamed his innocence, demanded a lawyer and been promised the same publicity grabbing escort out the front door of One Police Plaza Bergon had been offered. Albrus clammed up and grasped the lifeline his lawyer suggested, pleading guilty to the lesser charge of aiding and abetting in the commission of a felony.

Noah Bellov was still at large.

* * *

One hour later Boscorelli found Dunbarin Deakins office. He grabbed the detective and tried to pull him out of his chair. 

"CSI has finally tracked the GPS signal to long term parking at JFK," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "You coming?"

Dunbar shook off Bosco's hand, "I've gotta get Hank."

"Leave the damn dog, Dunbar!" He grabbed Jim's arm again only to find himself immediately twisted into a vicious headlock by the livid detective.

"After I get Hank, he is not the damn dog. He is Hank, my partner."

There was no way Jim was going to let anyone else pull, shove or maul him again today. Hank was going to be at his side.

"So," Bosco yelled back at Jim as he fastened the stiff harness on his guide dog, "this is Hard Ass Dunbar, the guyI heard about for so long. I wondered when he'd show up."

Deakins voice cut through the tension building inside histhe office. "Boscorelli, Detective Dunbar will be waiting for you at the elevator, with Hank. I want to have a little chat with you."

* * *

It was asilent ride to Kennedy Airport that wove through the Bowery to the Williamsburg Bridge; hip hopped from Brooklyn-Queens Expressway to the Long Island Expressway and finally to the Van Wyck. Boscothen peeled off the expressways to the streets Queens and the long term parking lot that serviced JFK. The cold, February winds jostled the car as it nosed its way into the lot, bringing stinging snow with it. Christie Dunbar had been grabbed around ten o'clock and her grabbled phone message reached Jim little more than one hour later. It was now almost two in the afternoon and Jim didn't know if his wife was merely cold or if she was frostbitten or… frozen to death. 

Boscorelli nosed the unmarked car beside the CSU truck in the parking garage.

"Dunbar," Bosco slammed his door shut and made no move to assist the blind detective, "there are four floors of parked vehicles here. We found the haystack and now we're looking for the fucking needle."

"Christie said she was in a truck.She knows the difference between a car and a truck."

"Don't matter, looks like every vehicle here is gonna be checked anyway."

While other officers started their methodical search of every car, truck and van in the parking garage Jim and Bosco headed to the cube trucks clustered together near the exit. A CSU tech with an omni mike was waving the parabolic antenna over each one like a priest blessing a silent crowd. Dunbar was as close to the tech as Hank would allow and he listened for any changes in the soft blips the mike emitted. Jim heard a rise in the electronic signal and felt the tension in the air climb as the false benediction slowed to a stop.

"We'll check out this one," was barely out of the man's mouth as Jim shoved past, fingers stretched out to locate the truck. Jim didn't care that he didn't have latex gloves on, that there might be something dangerous in there that he could not defend himself against. All he cared about was getting his wife back safe and warm in his arms. The door swung open on well oiled hinges and Jim heard someone catch their breath and scramble away from him.

"Christie? Is that you?"

"Jimmy?" came the tentative reply.

Jim swiftly crawled into the truck, reaching out for his wife and pulling her into his arms with a strength he didn't know he had.

"Yeah, baby, it's Jimmy. I've come to take you home."


	16. Chapter 16

**OFFICER DOWN 16**

**Tying Up Loose Ends**

Time can be a magician. It knows more tricks than Houdini. It distorts reality and confounds its audience with tricks both gentle and cruel. When time pulls you into one of its chaotic spheres you are tossed, twisted and then dropped into a reality you neither expected nor wanted. There is nothing you can do about it. You will never know how time's tricks are done.

So it was with the Dunbars. The discovery of Christie Dunbar at that JFK Airport parking lot only started a new cycle of manic activity. Doctor examinations followed by police debriefings never allowed the woman time to decompress. Finally, when Christie felt ready to scream Jim stepped in. He stopped the endless probing interviews and then put his arm around her waist and took her away from One Police Plaza. Jim took Christie home.

Once he put his arm around her Christie was never out of Jim's reach. That night when he took her home Jim was her guide and caretaker. His touch was so warm and soft no one who saw him today would have believed it was Dunbar. Jim held his wife until she finished crying. He gently bathed her, washed her hair and wrapped her in soft towels. Jim tucked her into bed and held her until exhaustion overtook Christie and she fell asleep. Only then did Jim Dunbar allow his own fears to surface as he realized how close he had come to loosing his wife.

* * *

Jim awoke when he felt Christie flip the crystal on his watch to touch its face. 

"You awake?"

"What time is it? I can't see the alarm clock." Christie's sleepy voice filled his head.

Jim moved her fingers and checked the time. "It's almost nine o'clock. Are you hungry? I can go get something…"

"No," came the sharp reply. "Don't go! It's all right."

Jim shifted and pulled Christie closer. "Okay, for just a little while. But we've gotta eat and Hank has gotta be fed and walked."

"I'll come with you." Christie was panicking as she tried to push tighter to him. Jim rocked her in his arms like she was two years old.

"You'll be safe here. There's going to be a squad car covering the place until Bellov is found." He kissed the top of her head. "I'll take my cell phone, if I'm gone too long, call me. I'll come right back. You can count on me now. I promise I won't screw up again... about anything."

"Oh, Jimmy, don't make promises you can't keep."

Jim kissed her again. "I will do anything I can to make you safe and happy until the day I die. So, stop worrying while I walk Hank."

Still, Jim waited until Christie fell back to sleep. He knew he had to leave her now because he couldn't neglect Hank. His dog had waited long enough.

When he finally got outside the snow was softly drifting down. He could feel it land lightly on his face. The cold helped clear his head as Jim walked Hank into the park. Finally, he sat down on his favourite bench and went over the events of the day. The throbbing in his right hand told him just how stupid and arrogant he had been. Boscorelli called him Hard Ass Dunbar. He had lashed out at people trying to help him, thrown his weight around and generally behaved like the prick he used to be. He couldn't physically be that Dunbar anymore and he didn't want to be. Jim didn't want to be that loud, violent, self centered man anymore. Tomorrow he'd have to apologize to Olivia Benson and Eliot Stabler. Hell, he'd even apologize to Maurice Boscorelli but he knew Bosco would wonder why. It might not matter to Boscorelli, but it mattered to him. Christie had said something about using a twelve step program like AA when it came to their marriage. Which step was apologizing and atoning. Maybe he better figure out his higher power thing first. If he had to admit he had no control over loving his wife he'd do it in a heartbeat. It was today when he finally realized he loved Christie more than himself. Wow, what a concept.

"Nice dog you got there," the man's voice was in front of Jim. "Can I pet him?"

"Not while he's in harness. When Hank is wearing it he has a job to do." Jim reached down and ruffled to top of the dog's head.

"Yeah, I know about guide dogs. They're really special." The man's voice was light and friendly, "I just never saw one this close before."

"Yep, Hank here is really something," Jim smiled and was about to give his dog another well deserved pat as the man's footsteps went past the bench. Suddenly Hank was ripped from his grasp and a cold sharp blade was shoved viciously against Jim's neck.

"Noah Bellov," hissed Dunbar.

"At your service," Bellov snickered into Jim's ear. "Daddy always said you were a smart man. Street smart. Dad said Goren was book smart but you and Logan were street smart. He told me to watch out for Goren and Logan, but I knew you were gonna be my problem."

"And why was that, Noah?" Jim kept his voice low and calm and attempted to control the situation like an interrogation. Bellov had the park bench between himself and Dunbar. That bench might as well have been a concrete wall that separated victim from perpetrator and gave the perp all the advantages. Jim was going to have to think fast so he let Bellov ramble on.

"Cause you got something to prove. You didn't let that bitch dyke partner of yours cut off your balls. I seen the arrest reports. Daddy was real good at givin' Mr. Masucci the heads up on who to watch and you were something before you got shot. Hell, you're still something. If you write that sergeants exam in May, you'll pass. They'll put you in a uniform and have you command other punk ass cops and you'll make them listen to you. All with no eyes… the chief of d's wants you to fail, but you got balls of steel. Goren and Logan, they like where they are, but you… you'll always have something to prove. Shit… you're the kind of bastard some guys would've followed into Hell… once." Bellov barked a short sharp laugh and pressed his knife tighter into Jim's throat. "Course, I already been to Hell, it's kinda like here and now, knowing you're fucked and nobody will hear you scream."

"So, you like it when your targets are at a disadvantage." Jim tried to sound as if this were an everyday conversation. Jim knew he would have to lull Bellov into complacency before he could do anything to defend himself, but Jim had to ask the question. "Is that why you went after women officers?"

"Nyah; that was a smoke screen and something I always dreamed about doing. Mr. Masucci had seventeen little Chinks to move to they're new owners. That bitch dyke Symons heard about the party at the Mercer and was gonna crash. Well, I get the family to move the party and get a little target practice and screw up the cops all at the same time. All those little Chinky girls and boys went to they're new papa-sans, I get a reputation of being a problem solver and team player and the NYPD gets squat."

"Why the other shootings?"

"Fun and games; I get those PD idiots looking for an inept serial killer and I get to be the Masucci's next big sub-contractor and still get to hurt those bitch dyke cops. Not bad for a kid who didn't go to college."

"Now what?" Jim Dunbar was beginning to believe his life expectancy could be measured in minutes. If that was true, who cared if he got snarky?

"Now, its au revoir, that's French for see you later Dunbar. I'll be seeing you, but you won't be seeing me. That is such a laugh, but I am going to leave you a present, kinda like Braille."

Jim leapt straight into the air when the knife blade left his neck and Hank yowled in pain. Jim groped for his dog as Hank ran to his master. Jim felt thick, sticky blood on Hank's head and his hands told him that Bellov had sliced Hank's right ear almost in half.

"God damn you, Noah Bellov, you are dead meat!" It was Hard Ass Jim Dunbar that screamed at the sound of retreating footsteps. That damn tune with new words was seared into his brain.

"This game was so much fun,

Soon I'll play another one.

Fuck you over, knock you down, I'll do it again."

* * *

Noah Bellov was gone as if he had never existed. The apartment on Ocean Parkway was examined and emptied, the Ira Bellov estate was locked down and the man buried, but none of these things drew his only son out of hiding. February gave way to March and Major Case sent the extra officers back to their own precincts. The case against Noah Bellov was officially cold. 

It was the first Friday in April and the walls at Bang Bangs were being updated. The names Stella Bonasera, Maritza Gomez, Anne Donnelly and Karen Betancourt were joining the others on the wall. The back of the bar was crowded. Karen was with Mack Taylor, finally on the blind date Stella Bonasera had arranged. Stella brought her newest boy friend; a court recorder named Dave something or other that always seemed to be there when she had to testify. Maritza Gomez was still uncomfortable with her empty sleeve but her husband convinced her to join Jake Balfour tonight. Boscorelli dragged Faith Yokas with him just to get the other members of the task force to tell her he hadn't screwed up at One PP. Eames and Barak brought dates, but Goren and Logan came stag, although Mike Logan did manage to sit beside Karen most of the night. Jim was introducing Christie to Captain Deakins and his wife when eight o'clock rolled around and Deakins stood up to make a speech.

"People," Deakins raised his voice, "now that everyone is back where they belong I have got to say I hope you stay there. I also have to say that working with all of you was an experience."

"Yeah, learning experience," Bosco tossed back at Deakins.

"You, Boscorelli, are more like an out of body experience… something I try to forget but can't."

Everyone hooted as Bosco stood and bowed until Faith pulled him back into his seat.

Deakins now raised glass. "So, let's drink to the incarceration of Mordechai Bergon and Noachum Albrus and the quick capture of Noah Bellov." He watched the people answer his toast and continued on, "and there are a few of you who are welcome to apply to Major Case whenever you want. We may not take you, but you can apply." Jim Deakins sat and realized he was going to miss these people, even Maurice Boscorelli. While life was never dull in the Major Case Squad it was now just a little bit emptier.

As the night wore on more officers joined the bunch in the back and the party became loud and raucous. When they heard Sinatra's 'Just in Time' Jim pulled Christie over to the junk box and they started dancing.

"I think I like your friends," Christie whispered into Jim's ear.

"Thanks; I'll try to do better with yours," he answered back, "even those bozos from California."

"I'm just tying up loose ends from… Clay's schedule," Christie sighed.

Jim pulled her into a quick spin and then kissed her cheek. "You'll be good at your new job. You'll manage just fine and you don't have to apologize for taking it. Clay knew you had it in you."

"Even if I have to have parties for business purposes?"

"Even if I have to go to your business purposes parties," Jim shrugged his shoulders, "just as long as I can escape to the bedroom once in a while."

"I suppose, it is your home too." Christie looked over Jim's shoulder, "I think someone wants to talk to you." Christie stopped the dance and lead Jim over to Azmi Ackbar.

"Dunbar," the vice cop reached out and took Jim's hand.

"Ackbar," he answered back. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Yeah, I got your messages. Things have been kinda busy. Can we go someplace quiet?"

"Sure," Jim took Azmi's arm and they headed out the door to the street. He waited for the man to speak, but Ackbar stood silent so Jim began. "How's Anne?"

"Do you really want to know, or are you just making conversation." Ackbar shot back.

"Hey, I really want to know. How is she?"

"Well, she recognizes me. She'd probably recognize you if you bothered to visit. Annie's like a little girl now. She laughs and cries at the drop of a hat. She remembers being a police officer but she knows she's never going to come back to the job. It's the… it's…" the man's voice cracked, "damn it would be easier if she were dead."

Jim reached out for the man, "don't say that. Don't ever say that."

"Easy for you to say," Ackbar shook off Jim's hand. "You can do a lot when you got your brain. Anne Donnelly is going to be a child the rest of her life. Her parents are taking her back with them. They're not young. When they go who's going to take care of her?"

"I wish I had some answers for you, Azmi. Remember, we're in the New York City Police Department. We take care of our own." Now was the time for Jim to step out on a limb and give to someone he had only taken from before. "I'll talk to some people I know at human resources and I promise I'll keep track of Anne. Call it making direct amends to someone I have injured."

"She asks for you, you know." Azmi's voice was hard and challenging. "Tell me you'll go with me on Sunday to visit Anne."

"He'll go," the voice of Christie Dunbar broke into their conversation, "and I'll go to."

She walked up to the men and gave her card to Ackbar. "Call tomorrow and we'll get everything arranged. Would you like to join us inside?"

"No, I've got a wife and kids waiting at home for me. Thanks, Mrs. Dunbar."

"It'll be my pleasure." She answered as she took Jim's hand and watched the other man leave.

"Are you ready to go home, Jimmy?"

"Why would you want to go home with a broken down bastard like me," Jim honestly wanted to know the answer.

"Cause we're finally working together and that's what life is all about." Christie replied as she laid her head on his shoulder. "All I ever wanted was… you, not a cop or a Casanova, only you."

"Good, cause that's all I got to give. Let's go home."

FINI

Thank you to everyone who stayed with me until the end of the story. I never intended it to go on so long, but once it started it demanded to keep going.

I especially thank everyone who sent me comments. I appreciate them immensely and I hope I haven't bored or confused anyone who tried to keep track of this story. Next time, I promise to plot it out a little better, This was a complete fly by the seat of my pants experience.

From the 12 Steps of Alcohilics Anonymous

5. To admit to myself and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs.

8. Make a list of all persons I have harmed and be willing to make amends to all of them.

9. Make direct amends to such people, whenever possible, except when it may injure them or others.


End file.
